


Consequences and Repercussions

by Hisstah



Series: Secrets and Revelations [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha/Omega Bonding, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Anal Sex, BAMF!John, BAMF!Sherlock, Case Fic, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Verse, Oral Sex, Sentinel/Guide, Sentinel/Guide Bonding, Sentinel/Guide/Alpha/Omega Fusion, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-11-23 22:43:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 207,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hisstah/pseuds/Hisstah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Omega guide Dr John Watson has to face the consequences of his actions after he returns to London with his new bond mate, alpha sentinel Sherlock Holmes.  Will they be able to make things right with their families and the Tower before a serial killer hunts them down?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, many thanks to Velvet Mace for her wonderful work that helped inspire this. My greatest respect to her and I wish her the very best. 
> 
> This is a sequel to "Secrets and Revelations". If you've not read that, this one won't make a whole lot of sense. 
> 
> Thank you once again to all who read and enjoyed my last story. This one should tie up some loose ends and I hope you'll enjoy it also.
> 
> Please feel free to feed the author! Comments and feedback are very much appreciated and help encourage and inspire. Thank very much to those who do leave comments and kudos. You guys are wonderful. :-)

 

 

 

 

Thank you to Cleo_Calliope for her lovely cover!! 

______________________________________________________________________________

 

 

 

Arriving home from France after over a month of being away, Dr John Watson thought that maybe he would settle in, unpack, fix a nice cup of tea and put his feet up. Next on the agenda, he might share a romantic dinner with his new bond mate, alpha sentinel Sherlock Holmes, followed by a night of passionate sex in his own bed. 

The last thing Dr John Watson, omega guide, wanted to be doing on his first day back in London was to be cooling his heels in a guide cell at the London Sentinel Tower.   But that was where he was currently residing.  Sitting on the hard mattress, head in hands, John sighed and remembered what happened after they’d left Grand-maman’s home.

Once they had reached Calais, they’d had a bit of a wait because the train was delayed.  While they waited, John had watched all the travellers coming in from Paris and decided he’d like to go too, if only for a day.  It was surprisingly easy to divert his sentinel because once there John learnt that Paris was Sherlock’s most favourite city after London. 

John had visited the French capitol on school trips but going with Sherlock was a whole different kettle of fish.  Instead of just a day, they’d spent a magical week exploring parts of the city he never knew existed, enjoying five-star cuisine and making love every night in a suite at the Hôtel Ritz.  But the call of his cases eventually caught up with the detective and they regretfully packed up and turned toward home.

Once more on the road, there had been no trouble in Calais but when he and Sherlock were pulled over as they disembarked the train in the UK, they realised something was up.  The two customs officials demanded their passports, looked at them carefully and finally asked them both to get out of the Mercedes.  

Sherlock was annoyed and didn’t bother to hide his irritation.  Elegant coat swishing theatrically around him, the sentinel slammed the car door, held out his arm for John and possessively pulled him close to his side as they were asked to walk to an office inside the cavernous building. Sherlock in a full-blown alpha snit was a sight to behold.  However, John was worried and he picked up a similar feeling from Sherlock despite all the dramatics.

The two officials escorting them from the car brought them into the office and flanked the door once they’d entered, effectively blocking it. Another customs officer was sitting behind a table with two chairs in front of it. He gave them a jittery smile, greeted them politely and indicated that they should sit. However, Sherlock had refused and glowered at all the officials, doing his best to use his alpha pheromones to intimidate the betas in the room. He succeeded quite well, making everyone jumpy and uncomfortable.

“What is this all about? You have no right to detain me or my omega without telling us what is going on.  We have nothing to declare so you’d best let us go about our business.” Sherlock was using his most posh tones, literally looking down his nose at the poor man with a threatening manner.  The official nervously darted his eyes around the room, trying to find a way to avoid Sherlock’s angry gaze.

”I’m sorry Mr Holmes, Mr Watson. It’ll just be a moment and we can return your passports.” It was clear to John that he was lying, but Sherlock’s attitude wasn’t helping.  
  
John frowned at his alpha, poked him in the side and pulled him down into one of the chairs. “Stop it, Sherlock.  There’s no need to scare the shite out these people. They’re just doing their jobs.”   
  
But that was before six extremely tense Protectors walked in, armed with tranquilliser guns and tasers. John wanted to slam his head down on the table and start beating it against the hard surface.  His stomach knotted in despair.  Why had he thought the Tower wouldn’t be waiting for him?

His head stayed up, though, as one of the Protectors bravely took a step forward and read from an official document. His hand was shaking, John noted with interest. “Guide John Watson, you are being placed into the custody of the London Sentinel Tower to answer numerous charges that have been placed against you by the Sentinel Alpha Prime of London,  Moira Hayes.”  There was more but John tuned it out.  

The doctor had expected to have to deal with the Tower at some point, just not so soon.  He could tell his bond mate was getting ready to explode and start telling everyone the Protector had undoubtedly wet his bed until he was ten or had impure thoughts about his mother. 

However, it was very apparent that this time John couldn’t avoid being taken into the Tower’s custody and he’d rather not have the Protector take his humiliation out on him.  John put a hand on Sherlock’s arm and squeezed lightly. 

Sherlock picked up on that right away and subsided with an angry huff.  John absolutely loved being bonded. He could control Sherlock with a thought. It went the other way as well, but right now it worked to his advantage.  

Sighing heavily when the man finished speaking, he sat back and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Fine. You’ve got me.  What’s next?”  The Protectors had been bracing themselves for some kind of outburst and were surprised when John gave up without a struggle.     
  
One of the Protectors moved over toward John but then backed away as Sherlock growled. Standing at a respectful distance, the beta looked indirectly at Sherlock and held out some handcuffs. “He’s supposed to be restrained, Alpha. If you will please put these on him, I won’t have to touch him.” 

The man also refused to look at John while Sherlock was behaving so possessively.  Only a complete fool purposely set off an alpha who was being protective of his omega.  
  
John sighed again. “Sherlock, we both knew this was a possibility, though I didn’t expect them to meet us practically at the border.” 

Sherlock deflated and clutched at John’s hand. “I know, John. I should have anticipated this also. What do you want to do?”

John thought for a moment and eyed the Protectors standing nervously around. They were incredibly tense and John’s empathy was telling him they were ready for anything he might do. “Put the cuffs on me and follow me to the Tower. Can you contact Mycroft to get me a solicitor?” He could feel the Protectors relaxing at his answer.

Sherlock looked miserable but nodded reluctantly.  Standing abruptly and scaring everyone in the room, Sherlock snatched the cuffs from the Protector who then backed quickly away. 

Sherlock stared deeply into John’s eyes. The doctor could tell his alpha was silently vowing to do everything to get him out as quickly as possible as he loosely snapped the handcuffs on John’s wrists.   The sentinel stepped back, radiating frustration and anger.

Glaring at the Protectors, expression as hard as flint, Sherlock spoke quietly but intensely. “If anything happens to my bond mate, you will wish you’d never been born.”

John nudged Sherlock and made the alpha look at him. “I think they get the message.  It’s all right, luv. I can tell they don’t want to hurt me and they’ll be careful. You and I are bonded now, and there is nothing anyone can do that will ever change that. Just follow us in the car and see if you can get in touch with Mycroft.” He stretched up to give Sherlock a quick kiss and turned toward the Protectors.

”Let’s get this show on the road, lads.” Back straight, he walked toward the Protectors, who surrounded him and led him from the room. He didn’t look back for fear his resolve would weaken.

They took John through a private hallway and were careful to keep him out of sight of any of the public.  Two dark coloured saloons with tinted windows awaited them at the end of their walk and John was helped inside. The further they got from Sherlock, the more the Protectors relaxed, which was rather funny. John was more of an actual threat than Sherlock was, but betas automatically kowtowed to alphas and never to omegas. They respected omegas but didn’t defer to them. As he was driven away from the station, John turned to look out the rear windscreen and searched for their Mercedes but didn’t see it yet. 

He could feel the separation from Sherlock like an uncomfortable stretching of his skin and wondered how bad it would get if they were apart for very long. Newly bonded pairs needed to stay in close proximity during early days. Separation at this early a stage in their bond could cause paranoia, anxiety and some painful physical symptoms if the separation went on too long.  

This was common knowledge and true for sentinel/guide pairs as well as alpha/omega pairs. John wondered if it would be worse since he and Sherlock were bonded as both.  He needed to do research to determine the veracity of this, but he remembered from medical school that if an omega were pregnant and deprived of his/her alpha for long, the blastocyst might not implant or he could miscarry if it had implanted. John seriously wanted to prevent that and so would do everything necessary to sort out his problems with the Tower as quickly as possible. He planned to cooperate fully. 

John didn’t remember the trip from the station to the Tower. His mind was completely caught up in worry about what could possibly happen to him.  Would they actually imprison him and if so, for how long?  He knew he was being stupid to worry so much because he had no idea how sentinels dealt with those who had broken their laws. It was hard enough to accept that he was under their jurisdiction simply because he’d been born a guide and there was nothing he could do about it. 

On top of everything, he wondered if they were going to try to prosecute Sherlock as well. He was instrumental in John’s escape from the Tower.  Douglas had seen them leaving and must have told his sentinel.  Would they overlook it or charge Sherlock, too? His stomach was tied in knots of worry and he had to stop himself from chewing on his lips in anxiety.

Arrival at the Tower was anti-climactic to say the least.  They pulled into an underground car park instead of parading him through the front doors like last time.  John was thankful for small favours as he was helped out of the vehicle.    
  
The Mercedes screeched to a stop just beside them and they waited as Sherlock got out of the motor and stalked toward them.  The alpha was still angry and despite the guard’s protests, he gathered his omega to his side. To John’s surprise, the Protectors gave up trying to separate them and ushered both of them into a lift that took them to the ground floor entrance area and then to the bank of lifts further inside the building.

 John could see more of the entrance room this time as they were marched through. There was a reception area off to one side he’d not seen at all the first time he’d been there that was actually rather attractive. It looked very new, in fact. Had it just been added? If so, that was fast work on the part of the new administration.

The second thing John noticed about the Tower was that the emotional atmosphere was considerably lighter and had a more positive feel than before.  The lobby area was still dark and imposing but the sense of oppression had evaporated.  Just having Fitzhugh gone seemed to have removed the poisonous mindset from the Tower, which was heartening.

The Protectors were less nervous as well now that they were back on their home turf and especially since they seemed to sense that John was not going to cause trouble.  Though John was less sure that Sherlock wouldn’t because he was practically vibrating with alpha anger and worry.  He did his best to soothe and calm his sentinel and Sherlock responded by pulling him close and burying his face in John’s hair as they waited for a lift.

John and Sherlock were brought to the same guide cell he’d been in before. The doors’ lock clicked and they stood in the rectangular cell, just looking at each other.

John held up his cuffed hands and Sherlock unlocked them with a key he produced from a pocket somewhere inside his ridiculous coat.  He threw the handcuffs on the table as John rubbed his wrists.

“Were you able to get in touch with Mycroft? Did he recommend a solicitor?” John sat on the bed and put his head in his hands as Sherlock began to pace.

”Anthea is contacting our family solicitor and she will find someone who specialises in Sentinel Law. There’s a problem however. Apparently each Tower is independent of the other and there is no consistent codified law between them. All criminal prosecutions are kept internal and private between members of the Tower.  Finding someone who knows London Tower law history might be difficult. But I expect we’ll hear something one way or another soon.”

This could be bad.  If they couldn't find a solicitor to represent him, could he handle this on his own? With Sherlock to help him and if they could be allowed access to London Tower law history, they might have a chance to present a credible case, given enough time.  Hopefully, Mycroft and Anthea could find someone for him who at least was familiar with Sentinel Law and its precedents in situations similar to his and could give him some advice.

Sherlock’s phone rang, interrupting John’s thoughts.  He guessed it was Mycroft and the conversation took just a moment before the sentinel rang off.

“Mycroft has found a solicitor for us. An alpha sentinel named Graham Givens.  Apparently there are no real specialists in sentinel law but he’s the closest thing Mycroft could find.” Turning toward John, his face was wreathed in concern.  “He can’t meet with us until tomorrow, though. I’m afraid we’ll be here until then.”

John shrugged. “We’ve been in worse places, luv. As long as we’re together, it’ll be all right.” The doctor was resigned to spending a long night in the Tower. It was uncertain if Sherlock would be allowed to stay with him. Someone was going to have to talk to them sometime and he would have to be patient.

“How is Mycroft doing, by the way?” John hadn't asked about him for a few days and was curious.  Mycroft had gone home from hospital with Anthea before John’s heat had finished and he’d not had the chance to thank him personally for saving his life. He knew Sherlock had done but it wasn’t the same.  As far as John was concerned, Mycroft had redeemed his earlier behaviour and now had a clean slate with him. And he wanted to start off in a positive way by letting Mycroft know how much he appreciated his sacrifice.

Sherlock was back to pacing and answered absently. “He’s doing very well and is almost ready to go back to work.  Anthea and Mummy are feeding him too much and he’s probably getting fatter as we speak.”  John couldn’t help but laugh at the old joke and straight away felt lighter in spirit.

There was a knock at the door and the lock clicked open. A short, older man wearing glasses and carrying some papers came in and closed the door behind him. John and Sherlock both noticed at once that the lock did not reengage and they shot quick glances at each other in bemusement.

The stranger peered at Sherlock in mild surprise and then introduced himself in a friendly manner. “Good morning! I’m Second Guide Prime Tom Elliot and I’m here to ask Guide Watson some questions. I suppose you’re his new alpha sentinel? My congratulations to the two of you. You’ve both chosen well.” 

John and Sherlock stared at him in confusion as he sat himself in one of the chairs, put down his papers and noticed that the handcuffs were sitting on the table. His eyebrows rose and he put a key on the table, looking at the two of them with an amused expression. “I guess you won’t need this, then.” Smiling he pulled a biro out from his shirt pocket and started to sort out the papers.

”John’s not answering any questions without a solicitor here. And he’ll be here tomorrow.” Sherlock was adamant. 

Elliot frowned a bit and then shrugged.  “That’s fine with me. I can always come back later, but it will mean John will have to stay overnight and not be able to go home this afternoon.”

Before either of them could react to that statement, Elliot continued. “What I want to speak with him about has nothing to do with the charges being laid against him. It has to do with his history as a guide. I’d also like to test his abilities as much as I can, though I doubt I’m strong enough to determine his rating. We’re planning on asking Ailbert Mitchell to come down from the Edinburgh Tower to test you properly, Guide Watson. But that will have to be another day.”

John stood up, completely astounded. “Go home today? You mean I can just answer some questions and then I can go home?”

The guide blinked at him and nodded.  “Certainly.  Moira and James aren’t in the Tower at the moment but will be here tomorrow. They’ve been taking a goodwill tour of all the other Towers as the new Sentinel Alpha Prime and Guide Prime.  They’ll want you to come back in then and your solicitor can meet you at that time.”

“Then what was all that with the Protectors at the station?” Sherlock was getting angry again and John reached out absently to soothe him.

“We didn’t want Guide Watson disappearing on us before we had the chance to speak with him,” Elliot turned and addressed John directly.  “You are rather sneaky, I understand.” Then, to the doctor’s shock, the man winked at him.

John was completely bewildered and suspicious. “Okay. This is just getting too weird. What is going on? Why aren’t you treating me like a prisoner?”

Guide Elliot set down his biro and sat back in the chair with a serious expression. “Technically you are our prisoner but we, meaning the new administration of this Tower, prefer not to treat you like one at the moment.  Colin Fitzhugh and his Traditionalist cronies are no longer in charge and his ham-handed treatment of you was not universally popular.

“Everyone here knows what Fitzhugh tried to do to you and your alpha in France and we were extremely distressed to hear that he tracked you down and assaulted you. We hope he will be prosecuted within the fullest extent of the law and put away for a long time.

“As an omega guide living in London, by ‘normal’ civil and criminal law, you are under the jurisdiction and protection of our Tower, whether you want to be officially associated with us or not. This is recognised by all governmental and civil authorities and they support us in this.  Even though you are technically up on charges, which you will answer to when the time comes, we consider you one of us and want no harm to come to you.” John acknowledged this with a hesitant nod.

Elliot approved John’s acceptance and changed the subject.  “In the meantime, we have made some changes since you were last here. I’m sure you’ve noticed the emotional atmosphere in the Tower? I know you’re more than sensitive enough to pick up on it.”

John hesitated and then nodded. “Yes, I did notice.  Things seem…lighter somehow. More positive than before. Frankly, it was dismal and depressing the last time I was here.”

The man smiled, eyes sparkling behind his glasses. “I knew you’d be able to feel it. Hopkins owes me 5 quid.”  Elliot sat forward and took up the pen again, then turned toward Sherlock as if he’d forgotten him and made shooing motions.

“You, young sentinel. You need to leave now. But come back later this afternoon, say around 5 pm, and you can take your guide home.”

Sherlock turned to John; concern easy to read on his face. “John? I don’t want to leave you but I don’t want you to have to stay here a minute longer than necessary.  Do you trust him to do as he says?”

The doctor stared at Sherlock for a moment and then turned his attention to the other guide.  Extending a tendril of empathy, he was shocked to find the man’s shields almost completely down. Carefully he pushed forward and could feel immediately that Elliot was being totally honest with him. 

The sensation of reading another guide’s emotions wasn’t wholly alien to him as Forrester had allowed him to practice with her.  But he pulled back quickly and made sure his own shields were firmly in place.

John looked up at his alpha and nodded. “I think we can trust him, Sherlock.  He’s being honest with us and I want to cooperate so I can go home.”

Sherlock hesitated for a moment, glancing back at Elliot and then seemed to make up his mind.  “All right. I’ll go home and unpack our things, then come back to collect you at 5.”

Turning to the older guide, he narrowed his eyes in warning. “If he’s not ready to go then, I’ll come looking for you.”  He then kissed John lingeringly and left the room abruptly, coat flaring out behind him.

“He’s a feisty one, isn’t he?” Elliot observed with admiration and some humour. 

John couldn’t help but give him a rueful smile. “Yes, indeed. And he’s quite a handful when he gets going.” 

Elliot got a far away look in his eyes and grinned. “The best ones always are.”

Bewildered, John sat down in the chair and took a deep breath. The weird stretched feeling of separation from his alpha was making him feel jittery.  “So, what do you need from me?”

“Well, I now know from personal experience that you can read an individual’s emotions and can do it carefully.” He wrote down something and flipped through the rest of the papers. “I’d like to start out by asking you about your family.”

John spent the next few hours answering general questions about his early life.  Elliot asked when he’d manifested as a guide and when he’d presented as an omega and how he’d ended up a level four beta empath instead.  The guide was surprisingly non-judgmental about the lies John’s family had told the government.  

He reassured John about it. “Please don’t worry, John. None of this information will he used to harm anyone. Your family is not the first or the last to hide a child’s guide status, though I hope it will be happening less and less now that we’re going to be offering schooling and benefits to guides who come in willingly.” 

Lunch was delivered as they continued to talk about John’s family and places where he’d lived. Elliot was interested in where they had finally settled after his father had retired from the military and had been intrigued that the village they’d ended up in had no Tower nearby. He was surprised that John had not met another sentinel or guide before he’d joined the army.

“It’s clear you’ve had some training, though. You’ve got disciplined, strong shields. Who trained you?”

John was uncomfortable discussing Forrester. He frowned, trying to decide what to say to him. “All I can say is that yes, I had some training but that is classified information that I can’t discuss with anyone. Can we please leave it at that?” 

Elliot looked a bit frustrated but nodded. “I understand.  May I ask if this person was Tower trained?”

The doctor thought for a bit and nodded. “There was some Tower training but not much. That’s all I can say.” 

Looking down at his papers, Elliot sighed.  “I suppose that will have to do.  Now, I’d like to try a few tests before you go. I know your alpha is eager to collect you.” He grinned at John. “He’s the kind that will try to take this place apart if you’re not on time.”

John flushed.  “He’s not normally like that. It’s just that we’re so newly bonded.”

Elliot chuckled and looked nostalgic. “I remember what it was like to have a new bond with my sentinel. He was very protective at first, too.”

Sitting up straight, he sobered and declared, “Now, let’s see what you can do.”

John was very intrigued by the tests and forgot the real reason he was there while Elliot put him through his paces in an attempt to learn what John did and didn’t know about being a guide. Elliot indicated that they would need to repeat these tests over a period of time with different people to get accurate results, but he wanted to get started.  

After some basic tests on how well he could read various emotions, Elliot decided to test his shields.  “We already know you can sense the emotional atmosphere of a specific area and can read people individually.  Now I want to try to get some rough measurements of how strong your empathy might be.

“Make your shields as strong as you can and let me know when you start to feel pressure against them.” The guide set a timer and the test began. 

John wondered what he was supposed to feel. Was it like what he’d felt when he was under assault by the three guides in front of the chemist’s shop? It had been hideously painful.  Had they been able to combine their talents together to make one attack three times as powerful?  Was that even possible?   
  
John waited and waited, watching Elliot closely.  The man began to look a bit strained and then beads of sweat began to appear on his forehead. After a few more minutes, John began to feel a slight pressure against his shields and told Elliot, who stopped whatever he was doing. He punched the timer’s button, let out a relieved breath and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief.

Looking at the timer, he whistled. “Well, that just might be a record. We’ll have to check to be sure and do more trials, but it certainly would explain how you could stand up to and defeat three guides at once.”  He looked up at John with admiration. “Your shields are incredibly strong.  I could barely scratch the surface and I’m rated a fourteen.” 

John’s eyebrows went up in surprise. He had heard the top rating was twenty and Forrester had been a thirteen. She had not been able to breach his shields, either. She had shown him various mind disciplines to practice in order to strengthen his shields when they’d first met and he’d done them dutifully. It hadn’t taken long for him to show progress at the time.  John wondered what other guide techniques he could learn from this man and if he would be willing to teach him. 

“I’d like to try the same thing but with me touching you. Will you allow this?” John was surprised at how carefully and respectfully Elliot was treating him.  Nodding, he gave permission.

Elliot put a finger on John’s wrist and closed his eyes.  Within a much shorter period of time, he could feel pressure against his shields and indicated that to the other man, who blew out a breath and smiled.  “That’s a relief. I wasn’t sure if I’d have the energy to do that again for long.  I’m a much stronger touch empath than not, as you can tell.”  
  
John was fascinated at the difference. He had no idea that touch could aid in projecting empathy.

“I’ve got more questions to ask because I need a few minutes to rest before we continue.”

Elliot asked questions about how John had used his empathy in the past.  Had he ever used it to force someone to do something against their will?  John was able to answer a definite no to that one, not knowing that was even possible. 

Had he ever projected false feelings in order to manipulate anyone?  John admitted that he had, since he had done that very thing quite a few times while on the run. Specifically, he recalled how he’d played Deeds and Wilson in his office when they’d come to serve the Warrant of Custody. The doctor worried that he may have violated some guide code of ethics and hoped his ignorance would be taken into consideration if they were to judge him for it.  Should he mention the invisibility trick and how he could sweep long distances with his empathy looking for danger? Maybe that should wait for another day. It sounded like he’d be in testing for some time.

More questions along a similar vein followed and he answered as honestly as he could.  Finally, Elliot pulled out the timer again. “Maybe we shouldn’t try this right now as I’m still bloody tired, but it should only take a few moments.  I want you to try to get through my shields but I want you to be careful. It’s easy to injure someone this way. I’m sure you remember what happened at the chemist’s shop.”

John interrupted defensively. “I honestly don’t know exactly what I did there. I was very upset and they were hurting me.”   
  
Elliot held up a hand and nodded. “I understand. Those guides were expecting to have rendered you unconscious immediately and no one would have even noticed them picking you up.  But you were able to resist them and fight back. And without training! It’s astounding, to be honest and there are quite a few sentinel/guide researchers who want to test and question you about that incident.” John sat up, alarmed.

Elliot held up a hand and stopped him from speaking. ”The only time you absolutely must discuss that incident is when you answer to the charges the Tower has laid against you.  You are not obligated to talk about that with anyone else unless you want to do so.”   
  
John subsided, relieved. For a moment he had been afraid he was going to be spirited away to some laboratory where he’d be examined in uncomfortable and possibly painful ways.

Elliot eyed him narrowly, concern on his face.  “Okay?  I’ll start the watch then and you can begin.”

Taking a deep breath, John let it out slowly and sent out his empathy. Immediately he encountered a very strong shield.  He took a moment to be impressed and rather humbled that Elliot had chosen to lower it so completely earlier.  Right now it felt like he was encountering a solid stone wall.  Well, there were ways around a stone wall. One could be sneaky and try a circuitous route or just try to bull straight through.  He decided to go straight through and find out what happened, leaving a sneaky attempt for later if necessary. 

But he had to be careful so he started slowly and pushed.  Nothing happened, so he pushed harder and harder.  It was very difficult to tell if he was getting anywhere but he kept increasing pressure until he was suddenly through and there was nothing in his way. He felt Elliot’s shock and he pulled back promptly, realising he had closed his eyes somewhere along the way.  Elliot was drenched in sweat and was breathing as if he’d just run a race. 

John was alarmed at the man’s purple face and stood up to come around and check on him. “Are you all right?  Here, let me help you.” 

Elliot waved him off. “I’m fine. I’d appreciate it if you’d get me a towel from the bath, though.”  The guide took a deep breath and John could tell that his heart rate and respiration were slowing as he handed him a towel.  

Wiping his face, the older man took in a lungful of air and huffed. “That was rough, though. I don’t think I’ll try the next test, which would be to do that but with you touching me. I’ll let Mitchell do that instead.  You breezed through my shields as if they were paper.  I’ve never met anyone as strong as you and I’ve met many very strong guides.”

John didn’t know what to say and sat down again at the table while Elliot regained his breath.  The other guide smiled at him. “Don’t look so upset. You didn’t hurt me at all and this is excellent information.  I didn’t tell you but I’m also the Tower Archivist and it’s probably been centuries since we had anyone as strong as you here.  If you were trained, I think you’d be unbelievable. In fact, I’d like to try something else, since we still have some time. Are you game?”

Uncertain, John waffled for a bit.  It was close to 5 pm and he was getting tired. “If you don’t think it will take too long, I’m willing to try whatever you suggest.”

“Just a few minutes and we’ve got the time.”  Elliot put his biro in the centre of the table and left it there.  “Okay.  I want you to try to move this pen with your empathy.”

John was shocked and a little perturbed. “You mean you want me to try telekinesis?  Isn’t that a little far fetched?” He’d never heard of such a thing as being possible and he was extremely sceptical.   
  
Elliot looked at him wryly and gave him a smirk.  “So says the man who knocked five people unconscious with the power of his mind alone.” 

John flushed in embarrassment.  The older man was right. Just because he’d not heard of it didn’t mean it wasn’t possible. “Okay. You have a point. I’ll give it a try. Any suggestions?”  

Elliot just shook his head and looked at him expectantly.  Heaving a sigh, John focused on the biro and decided to visualise it moving, similar to the way Forrester had taught him to visualise in order to make himself invisible.  He imagined the biro rolling across the table and sent out his empathy toward it. 

Disappointingly, it stayed put.  Now it was a challenge and John concentrated harder and gave it a stronger push.  To his complete astonishment, it wobbled and then stilled.  He pulled back in shock and stared at Elliot, who was clearly trying hard to contain his excitement.

“Did you move the table?” John was suspicious but didn’t pick up any feelings of deceit from Elliot. 

The older man shook his head. “No! I wasn’t touching the table and the floor in this part of the Tower is stone. I doubt there was an earthquake, either. And I wasn’t breathing hard on it. Give it another go and see if you can roll it a few inches.”  Elliot was grinning and the excitement was infectious. 

John couldn’t believe he’d done that. It must have been a total fluke.  Still sceptical about it, he’d try again just to prove it didn’t really happen.  Telekinesis was something out of fantasy or the cinema, not anything that could be found in real life.

Feeling foolish, he focused his mind on the pen, took a deep breath, visualised and gave the biro a huge push.  To his total astonishment, it flew off the table and hit the wall.

Elliot gave a shout of pure excitement and retrieved the pen. “Oh my god, you can do it! I knew you could! Hopkins owes me 100 quid now!!”  

John’s mouth was open in total shock.  How had he been able to do that and not ever know it?  How could he tell Sherlock? He paled and his heart was racing in dread. Would the Tower want to imprison and experiment on him because of this?     
  
Elliot noticed his fear immediately. “No, no John. Please don’t be scared. No one will badger you about this or try to experiment on you.  It stays here in the Tower and will go nowhere else unless you say otherwise. Okay?”  
  
The doctor stared at him, eyes wide and mouth dry with fear. He sent out his empathy and found Elliot with his shields down again.  The other guide was completely sincere and meant exactly what he said. 

Relaxing somewhat, John pulled back and blew out a breath, adrenaline still coursing through his system.  “Thank you. I don’t think I’d do well as a guinea pig, to be honest.” 

“I understand, John. Neither would I.  I just want you to be aware of what you can do and I’m here for you if you want to learn more.  From what I’ve read in the ancient books kept in the Archive, there are other aspects of this skill that you might be able to do, such as picking up and manipulating tools. It would likely take a lot of practise to perfect anything that takes fine motor control, but it has been done before. 

“There are accounts of powerful guides doing what you just did in the Archives. But it’s been centuries since any guides have been recorded being able to do this.  I don’t think we have time to show the manuscripts to you today, but just think about it, okay?  I know that you do dangerous work with your sentinel and having these skills would be invaluable.  If you want the training, I’ll be happy to do what I can to help or find someone else if you’d rather.”  Elliot looked so hopeful that John had to smile at him.

“That’s extremely generous of you, but I need to deal with the charges the Tower has laid against me first before I can consider doing anything.  Until I know what kind of punishment they’ll give me, I can’t make any plans.”

Clearly disappointed, Elliot sat back and nodded. “I’d almost forgotten about that.  Well, you’ll be meeting with Moira and James sometime tomorrow afternoon.  I’ll ring you when I know the exact time. I can arrange for you to meet your solicitor here, as well. There are many soundproofed offices on the ground floor.  If you’ll let me know what time the solicitor can meet with you I’ll make sure a room is set aside for you.”

John considered this and nodded.  “I don’t know any of the particulars of when we’re to meet with Mr Givens. Sherlock is handling that right now and I’ll let him know. It’s probably best if we meet him here instead of his office so he can sit in on the meeting with Ms Hayes and Mr Douglas.” John looked up in concern. “Do you think they’ll want to keep me here after informing me of the charges?”  

“I’m sorry, John, I don’t really know for sure, but I seriously doubt it. You’re safely bonded and you’re staying in your sentinel’s territory. I’ll be willing to tell Moira that you’re sincere in your desire to face the consequences of your actions. She’ll listen to me.”   John believed him and sighed in relief.

Elliot checked his watch and stood up, papers clutched tightly in his arms. “It’s time I took you to your sentinel. Maybe I can show you to the Archives in the next few weeks. Also, Mitchell will need to test you at some point, but there’s plenty of time for that. 

“Please, try not to worry too much, John.  It’s just my opinion, but you’re an exceptional guide. The actions you took to preserve your freedom so that you could bond to the alpha sentinel of your choice will be taken into consideration, I’m sure of it.  Moira is a compassionate person, unlike Fitzhugh.” 

John nodded and followed Elliot out of the room and down to the lifts.  He was exhausted and all he could think about was a cup of tea, dinner and a cuddle with Sherlock.  

Sure enough, Sherlock was pacing the lobby area, waiting impatiently for John.  It was 5 pm exactly when they stepped into the reception area and the alpha headed straight for John and wrapped his arms around him.  It wasn’t until the doctor breathed in his alpha’s scent did he realise just how much he had missed him.  His arms went around Sherlock’s torso and hugged tight as the pain of separation began to dissipate.

“You all right, John?  You were afraid but then you calmed down. I almost came up there to get you, you were so upset. What did he do to you?”  Sherlock was angry and was giving Elliot a hard stare. 

John pulled back and looked up at Sherlock. “Not here, luv.  I’ll explain later, but Elliot isn’t to blame.  Please, let’s go home.” John’s plea jerked Sherlock’s attention away from the older guide and without a word the sentinel swept his guide out of the lobby and into the lift to the car park.

Once they were home, John wanted to collapse on the sofa but instead headed straight to the kitchen to make tea. Mrs Hudson, who was out for the evening, had left them some food that thankfully included biscuits and milk. The routine soothed him and he was completely calm when he was finished with his preparations, extremely thankful that Sherlock had left him alone with his thoughts.  John had sent him to sort through the post and it had worked well as a diversion.  

When he’d settled on the sofa with Sherlock and a large tea in front of them, he told his alpha all that had happened.

To say that Sherlock was astonished was an understatement. “You could move the biro with your empathy? I’ve never heard of such a thing! Do you think if I showed you the inner workings of various locks, could you manipulate them to open? Imagine the possibilities!” Sherlock’s eyes were gleaming with excitement. 

John’s head had started pounding while he’d described his day. Rubbing his eyes, he sighed and put his head back to rest on the sofa and closed his eyes. He realised he was very uncomfortable with it all and didn’t want to think about it. ”Maybe later, Sherlock. I’m really worried about tomorrow and what might happen.”   

“Well, I’ll ring our solicitor in the morning and arrange to have him meet us an hour before we’re to meet with the new Sentinel Alpha Prime. You said Elliot would let us know when Hayes and Douglas wanted to meet with us?”  John nodded and found himself beginning to fret again. He needed to do something to distract himself and Sherlock was sitting right there. An early night sounded very good and would help with the headache, as well. Smiling, he reached out for his alpha who reached right back with great eagerness. Distraction accomplished.

It was the first time he’d slept in Sherlock’s bed, though they’d actually done very little sleeping.  When they’d finally made it to the bedroom from the sofa, they’d spent much of the night making love and had finally fallen asleep.  

Once he was fully awake the next morning, John noticed that Sherlock had made space in the room for all his things. The sentinel had unpacked John’s suitcase, brought his clothes downstairs and put everything away in the cupboard and dresser. Even John’s weapon was placed in the nightstand at the left side of the bed, which was John’s preferred side. 

Yawning and relaxed, John shuffled into the kitchen to fix breakfast for them both.  Sherlock was in the shower and John had begun to set the table when Mrs Hudson came into the flat. John hadn’t seen her since they’d fled London, over four weeks earlier.  After the welcome hugs and kisses were over, John rescued breakfast and invited her to join them. 

She gladly agreed and began to fix the tea.  “Oh, I brought in your post. It was delivered early this morning.”  She pulled a few envelopes out of a pocket in her dress and began to pour the tea as Sherlock finally arrived, dressed for the day, dark curls dripping.  

John was looking hard at a very fancy envelope addressed to him as his alpha gave him a quick kiss.  “I wonder who sent this. There’s no return address.” He began to open it when Sherlock gasped and snatched it from him. Turning toward Sherlock in surprise, he reached to get it back but stopped when he saw the expression on his sentinel’s face.  
  
”It’s from Mummy.”  His face was pale with anger. “Let’s have breakfast and we can deal with this later. You and I have a lot to do today and this should be at the bottom of the list.”  
  
John reluctantly agreed. He wondered what could have made Sherlock so angry but knowing the letter was from his alpha’s mother made everything clear. The woman was an interfering nuisance and he didn’t want anything to do with her. He supposed he’d have to meet her some day as she would be grandmother to any children they might have, but hoped that day was far in the future. There were too many things to sort out first and he preferred to deal with one irritation at a time.    
  
They sat down to enjoy John’s cooking and to catch up with events.  Mrs Hudson was delighted to hear about their bonding and congratulated them profusely. When John told her about the possibility of being prosecuted by the Tower, she grew upset and offered to help in any way she could.

”There’s really nothing you can do, though thank you for offering.  Just knowing you’re here and keeping things together is a huge help. Thank you for everything you’ve done for us while we were away.” John was incredibly grateful and expressed his affection for their landlady. 

After Mrs Hudson went back downstairs John’s phone rang. It was Elliot, who let him know Hayes and Douglas wanted to see them at half two that afternoon. John arranged to have a room available to meet their solicitor at 1:30 pm and rang off.    
  
While Sherlock rang Mr Givens, John sat at the table and tried to calm himself. His stomach was churning and the breakfast he’d just enjoyed sat like a rock in his stomach. The reality of the situation hit him hard with the phone call from the Tower. When Sherlock told him their solicitor would meet them at the scheduled time, he felt somewhat better but was still full of nervous energy.

The post was on the table in front of him and he stared at it, mind vacant. There seemed to be mostly bills and he really ought to go through them but didn’t feel like it at the moment.  Sherlock had gone over to the sofa and begun to go through a stack of folders that looked to be Met case files.  Resting his head on a fist, John watched Sherlock curiously for a few moments. 

“Where did you get those files?  I don’t remember seeing them earlier.”   
  
Sherlock answered absently as he flipped through the papers and photos. “Lestrade dropped them off yesterday afternoon. It has to do with missing pairs of twins.  I’m trying to sort out which ones might be connected to my case.” 

“Oh. Well, let me know if you need any help.”  Sherlock hummed in acknowledgement and kept turning pages, obviously deep in concentration. John sighed and turned his attention back to the post. 

There were indeed many bills as well as a letter from St Bart's. John’s hand hesitated for a moment as he reached for it.  It was likely a termination letter. He’d not been at work for a month and he’d not called in, either.  

Opening the envelope he discovered that it was definitely a letter of termination.  The hospital deeply regretted having to let him go due to excessive absenteeism and the lack of communication, etc.  It wasn’t like he hadn’t expected it but it was sobering. He’d never been so irresponsible before and he felt he owed them an explanation.  Well, there was no time like the present.

Taking a moment to screw up his courage, John dialled the head of his department at the A&E.  John wasn’t sure if Dr Albright would be willing to even speak with him but he needed to try. It took a few minutes to get through to Albright’s line and when he did, the doctor himself answered.  John nervously introduced himself and explained his call. Without going into too much detail, John explained that he was a newly bonded omega and that they’d unexpectedly ended up going out of the country for four weeks. 

To John’s astonishment and relief, Dr Albright remembered him, had been very sympathetic and offered to allow John to submit a letter of resignation so he could be rehired later if he chose to apply. Greatly pleased, John thought that was quite decent of him and he thanked Dr Albright profusely. He’d always liked the older doctor. 

 “I had no idea you were an omega, John.  You hid it well, I must say. I’m very happy for you and wish you and your bond mate the very best. Please do let me know how you get on and if you need a recommendation for an omega specialist.  I suspect you’ll be starting a family soon? If so, I can recommend some excellent doctors.”  
  
John blushed.  He still wasn’t used to discussing his gender so openly.  “Yes sir, we do hope to start a family in the near future. And I’d very much appreciate a list, if you don’t mind.  It’s wise to start investigating omega obstetricians as soon as possible.” 

He rang off, feeling much better about things in general and with a promise from Dr Albright to email him a list of omega specialists soon. Sarah was another possible source for information.  She was a consummate professional but she was also an alpha. Sherlock hadn’t liked her and John didn’t want to cause his bond mate any cause for unnecessary jealousy.   Alphas could be very touchy about their omegas, and even though Sherlock knew that he should be very secure in his bond with his guide and omega, the jealousy and possessiveness wasn’t rational. 

Having mostly sorted out his work situation, John was thankful he’d not burnt any bridges there. The A&E had been a fascinating and challenging place to work, but it was probably a good thing that he wasn’t employed there now.  

Putting his hand on his abdomen, he imagined the cells of his child growing and dividing. There were so many pitfalls and dangers at this point that he didn’t want to take any chances that he might miscarry.  Taking it easy the next few weeks would be the ideal situation.  He really hoped that he could keep his stress levels down as much as possible. It was going to be very difficult, though, until he knew what he was going to have to sort out with the Tower authorities. In the meantime, he would do his best to stay relaxed and calm for the sake of their child. He could do this.

In the meantime, the pile of bills wasn’t getting any smaller so he reached for the top one and began writing cheques and stamping envelopes.  Ten minutes later the balance of his chequebook was considerably lower, but all the bills were paid. All that remained of the post was the letter from Sherlock’s mother.  

John stared at if for a bit and then glanced over at Sherlock, who was completely absorbed in the case files.  His alpha hadn’t wanted him to look at it until later, but he was curious.  Why had she written to him? Certainly she knew by now they were bonded. Maybe it was a ‘welcome to the family’ letter.  He smiled wryly and snorted a silent laugh.  _Not likely._  

However, it made him think of his mum and Harry.  He’d been in sporadic touch with them in the past month and they knew about his bonding with Sherlock. His mum had been so excited and thrilled for him and he smiled remembering the warmth in her voice as she congratulated him.  She’d laughed and teased him unmercifully about grandchildren and then had burst into tears when he told her they were hoping to start their family soon. 

Harry had been less than supportive but that was to be expected. She and Clara had got back together but it was too soon for them to start thinking about having a family. She was the elder and there was some jealousy.  Another complication was that Sherlock did not like her and made no bones about it. John sighed again. It seemed to be the day for sighs. He turned back to the post and the final envelope. 

The letter from Sherlock’s mother turned out to be an elaborately elegant invitation. As he read it, his blood pressure began to rise and Sherlock looked up in consternation.

”John? What’s wrong? Why are you so upset?”  Sherlock abandoned his files and made his way quickly over to his omega. John glared at him and was surprised that steam wasn’t coming out of his ears at this point. 

Sherlock paled when he saw what John was holding and John’s expression. “I told you that you should wait to read that! Why do you never do as I ask?” 

Instead of answering what was obviously a ridiculous question, John glared even harder at Sherlock, opened the invitation and began to read. “’The Earl and Countess of Yorkshire cordially invite you to the bonding announcement party of their youngest son,  Sentinel Alpha Sherlock Holmes to Omega John Watson.   Please join us on Saturday, December 15, two thousand twelve as we celebrate the happy joining of these two as alpha and omega….’”  There was more but John’s throat closed down in anger and he built up his shields for fear of accidentally lashing out.  Sherlock didn’t say anything but it was clear he was very angry also.  Whether the anger was directed at John or his own mother was unclear.

Finally John was calm enough to be able to speak. “Sherlock. Why is your mother inviting me to a bonding announcement party in six weeks?  Doesn’t she think that I should have been consulted about this before she arranged anything that concerned us both? And did you know about this?” One of the best things about being bonded was he could tell immediately if Sherlock was lying. 

“No. I didn’t know about it but it is typical of her to do something like this.  Frankly I am not surprised.” Sherlock was clearly angry at his mother but also hurt. At first, John was shocked by that, but once he thought about it, he realised he’d be hurt too if his mum had done something like this to him.  That helped quell his anger somewhat and he leaned into Sherlock’s side, putting an arm around his trim waist. 

“Well, if she thinks I’m going along with this, she needs to think again. Look at this announcement. You’re an alpha sentinel and I’m just an omega.” He sat  straight and looked up at Sherlock. “She does know I’m an omega guide, doesn’t she? Surely Mycroft would have told her.” 

Sherlock looked intrigued and smirked. “It’s entirely possible she may not know.  Mycroft has a perverse sense of humour sometimes and he might not have mentioned it to her for reasons of his own. I’ll have to enquire.” 

The detective looked speculative and continued. “I think we should go to this, John.  You have to meet my family sometime and this might be a perfect opportunity.  She’s expecting you to refuse in an injured huff and accepting will likely take the wind out of her sails.”  
  
John looked stubborn but also uneasy. “I thought I’d meet them during our preparations for the bonding ceremony. I’m not sure I’m ready. Your family is so different to mine. I don’t want to embarrass you in front of your family and their friends.”  
  
Sherlock glanced down at him lovingly.  “You could never embarrass me, John. You know how little I care for what others think.” He then looked closer at John, who lowered his eyes. “Ah, but I think I understand what the problem is now.  I know an excellent tailor who would love to work with you. His shop is on Marshall Street, just a few streets away.”  He held up his hand before John could say anything. “And price is no object, you know that, John.  It’ll make you feel more confident when you meet my parents and so I’ll arrange an appointment for us.”  
  
”But you don’t even know if I’ll be free to make that appointment, Sherlock! Please wait until we know more about what’s going to happen with the Tower.” The alpha reluctantly agreed. It was nearly time for them to leave for the Tower anyway. 

They arrived early and waited in the very pleasant reception area for Mr Givens.  John’s stomach was in knots again and he couldn’t keep still.  Pacing helped a bit until Sherlock pulled him down beside him and handed him a magazine. Leaning against his sentinel helped calm them both until they watched the lift doors from the car park open. A tall, ginger haired beta with a briefcase arrived and headed straight for them.  Holding out his hand, he introduced himself. 

“Sentinel Holmes, Guide Watson? I’m Sentinel Graham Givens, from Givens, O’Brien and Mullins. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

“My brother-in-law recommended you highly, Mr Givens. Thank you for coming.” The lawyer’s handshake was firm and businesslike and John liked him immediately. He was fairly young but clearly intelligent and had a sense of quiet competence that reassured the doctor. John’s nerves began to calm and the churning in his stomach eased somewhat. 

The young man smiled. “Please, call me Graham. Mycroft was a mentor of mine at University. I owe him a lot and I welcome the chance to help you if I can.”   John nodded in acknowledgment and indicated the lawyer should call them by their first names, also. 

Givens rubbed his hands together and looked around the lobby. “So. Let’s get started.  Did you say you had a room for us where we can speak freely?

They were directed to an office away from the lifts by the receptionist.  It was a bit bare but contained a medium sized conference table with six chairs.  There was a carafe of water on a tray in the centre of the table and a white noise machine, which they turned on immediately. 

Givens set his briefcase on the table and opened it before he seated himself.  John and Sherlock took seats across the table from him, anxious to hear what he had to say. The young man pulled out a folder and put it in front of him.  
  
”John, Sherlock gave me some small idea of what kinds of charges you might be facing and I can give you some basic information. Through my connections with the Tower, I have been given access to previous cases that are similar to yours and I’ve summarised them here.” He put a hand on the thin folder in front of him.

”Apparently you’re likely to be charged with failure to obey a Warrant of Custody as well as assault on a number of Protectors. There also might be a charge of GBH based on what happened with the unbonded sentinel during the Hunt. There may be others but we’ll have to wait to find out.  I understand it’s possible some criminal charges could be laid against you by the civil authorities because of the break-in at the terraced flats on the day you were taken. I’ll be glad to represent you for that also if it becomes necessary.”

”The crux of the matter is that John, as a guide, is under the jurisdiction of the London Tower  and you have no rights but what the Alpha Prime decides to give you based on Tower tradition and precedence. And in the past, guides had very few rights. That’s changing for the country as a whole, but for an internal matter such as this, the Alpha Prime has complete say in what will happen to you. 

“Each Tower has its own judicial approach and the punishments depend on the whim of the Alpha Prime. The only structure they share is the convening of a Tribunal. This group normally handle any major criminal matters within a Tower. Each Tribunal consists of a specific number of sentinels and guides and they examine and evaluate the evidence in a case.  They will determine innocence or guilt and then the current Sentinel Alpha Prime decides the punishment.   

“You will be allowed to testify in your own defence but will not be allowed to cross-examine witnesses. You will not be able to face your accusers. They will be examined by the judges. This is nothing like a normal courtroom and is a holdover from tribal times. Again, there is some movement to change but it’s a slow process.” 

John was intrigued and surprisingly hopeful. At least he would be allowed to speak in his own defence and was certain he could explain the reasons for his actions. There were extenuating circumstances that, if allowed to be heard, could help his case. Even though he didn’t yet know the new Sentinel Alpha Prime, her guide Douglas had said he would be a friend to them. Possibly Douglas could put in a good word with his sentinel in the hopes she might be lenient with him when it came to handing down a punishment.  

“The punishments for various infractions depend on Moira Hayes. She will be the one to determine what happens to you, John. These are some of the documents of similar cases involving guides.” 

Givens opened up the folder and held up a piece of paper, making a wry face. “As you can see, there isn’t much recorded. Apparently you’re unusual for a guide in that you deliberately defied the Tower. I’m guessing most guides are of the disposition to not fight the Warrant of Custody. 

“There were only two cases I could find.  One from the 1970’s and one from the 1990’s.  In the earlier case, the guide was sentenced by the Sentinel Alpha Prime to be confined to the Tower after bonding for no more than fifteen days.”  John’s spirits rose. He could do that. 

“However, in the most recent case, the guide was sentenced to three years confinement to the Tower after bonding.”  The lawyer’s face was grim. “The Sentinel Alpha Prime was newly elevated and his name was Colin Fitzhugh. You’re very fortunate that he is no longer in charge here.  I hope that Hayes will be much more reasonable.”   

John was stunned and at the same time incredibly relieved.  He had certainly dodged a bullet when it came to any punishments. At least he hoped he would get off lightly.   Moira Hayes simply had to be more reasonable than Fitzhugh had been.  

“I couldn’t find any cases where a guide deliberately injured or attacked other sentinels, even in their own defence.  In this, you are again very unusual, Guide Watson.”   

John’s chagrined expression made the lawyer give him as slight smile.  “I did find a few mentions of guides accidentally causing injury, but those weren’t prosecuted. There are plenty of cases where sentinels caused injury or even death to guides, but usually in the throes of a bonding frenzy.  Those sentinels were not prosecuted but there were a very few cases where a sentinel injured a guide deliberately.  Those sentinels were sentenced to death.” John gasped and even Sherlock sat up straight in shock. 

“That happened a very long time ago and this punishment hasn’t been enacted in living memory, thankfully.” 

“I’ll be glad to go with you now when you meet with the Sentinel Alpha Prime and will advocate for you as much as I can but frankly John, you don’t need me. I’ll go in with you to the meeting and get the list of charges to explain to you, but there’s nothing else I can do for you. Neither Sherlock nor I will even be allowed to come with you to the Tribunal.”  John glanced at his alpha, heart sinking. He would just have to go through with it on his own, then.  That would be fine. After all, he was a soldier.  Whatever the results of the Tribunal, he knew he would have done his best.    
  
”John, do you know where we’re supposed to meet with Hayes?”  Givens was gathering up his papers to return to his briefcase.  
  
John shook his head.  “I didn’t ask Elliot. I expect we can just wait in the reception area. Sherlock, do you have any other questions?” 

“Yes, I do. I aided John in his escape from this Tower. Is there a chance they would want to prosecute me for that?”  John had really hoped that Sherlock would not bring that up. The fact that he had an accomplice seemed to have been forgotten in all the craziness of John’s capture and subsequent escape.  

“They certainly could do if they know it was you who helped John. Did anyone see you?”  
  
Sherlock nodded. “James Douglas saw us leaving that night.  He spoke to us and then stepped aside so we could leave.”    
  
Givens’ eyebrows rose in astonishment. “That’s rather strange. Well, it’s clear they know you aided and abetted John’s escape. If they don’t bring it up, I suggest you keep quiet about it.” 

They made their way back to the lobby area where they waited for a few moments and then were met by Guide Elliot. He ushered them to the bank of lifts and took them to the fifth floor.  They moved into the newer part of the Tower where there was quite a lot of activity. John wondered what was happening that required so many people to be bustling about. 

Elliot took them to a large conference room and asked them to wait.  John’s palms were sweating and he was tired of all this uncertainty.  He just wanted this all over with and he knew it wasn’t going to end for a while. Sherlock put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, clearly picking up on his nervousness. 

“Everything will be all right, John. You’ll see.”  John appreciated his attempt at comfort but there was so much at stake.  He gave his sentinel a grateful half smile anyway.  
  
The door opened at that moment and the Sentinel Alpha Prime of the LondonTower and her Guide Prime walked in, followed by Elliot. Sentinel Hayes was tall, handsome and very fit, like most alphas John had met. She was dark-haired but there were wide grey streaks in her hair, indicating she was not young.    

Of course they had both met Guides Elliot and Douglas before though Sherlock had not been formally introduced to Douglas.  Neither had met Moira Hayes, but John clearly remembered seeing her at the alpha dinner meeting he’d been taken to the day he’d been captured.  Sentinel Hayes had been the alpha who had challenged Fitzhugh and had managed to get in a few good hits before they’d been separated.  She had subsequently challenged Fitzhugh officially to single combat, winning the fight and control of the Tower.  John liked her already. 

She began speaking before she even sat down.  “Good afternoon, everyone.  I don’t have a lot of time as there’s a press conference scheduled in about an hour. Good to see you again, Sentinel Givens.  Nice to finally meet you, Sentinel Holmes and Guide Watson.”  She reached out, shook their hands and smiled.   “May I congratulate you on your bonding?  I believe you have chosen extremely well and I expect to hear good things of you both.”  Her delivery was quick and businesslike.  John tried to imagine going through this with Fitzhugh and was glad he didn't have to do. 

“First of all, Guide Watson, you’ll be facing a variety of charges based on what happened last month.  Tom, please give Graham the list.”  Elliot handed over a folder to Givens, who began to flip through the pages of legalese. John was surprised at how thick the folder was. Maybe there was one page for each charge? If so there were a lot of them.  His stomach began to churn again. 

“Guide Watson, to cut to the chase, if you don’t mind the pun, the main charges against you are evading the Warrant of Custody, escaping lawful custody and causing deliberate grievous bodily harm to individual members of the Tower in the pursuit of their duty.

 “Graham can go over the charges with you at your leisure.  We don’t intend to keep you in custody at this time, though we do request your passport to make sure you don’t leave the country.”  John had anticipated this and had brought it with him.  Though that wouldn’t have stopped him if he truly wanted to leave, but they didn’t need to know that. He brought out his passport and handed it over to Douglas. 

“Now, I’m sure Graham has told you how we do things around here.  A Tribunal will be convened in approximately six to eight weeks from now, depending on the availability of the judges selected.  The judges will be senior sentinels and their guides from other Towers and they will be chosen by lottery. 

“They will hear the evidence against you and determine your guilt or innocence.  The statements taken from the witnesses are in the folder Graham has now but you won’t be able to cross examine them.  Graham will not be allowed in the Tribunal nor will your sentinel. You must face this alone. 

“When you are questioned by the judges, you will have to be willing to lower your shields completely so you can be examined by the guides for veracity as you testify.  If you aren’t willing to do that, there are drugs that will be administered to ensure your cooperation.  Once you have been questioned, the judges will make a decision. Then, if you are found guilty, I will determine your punishment.  Do you have any questions?” 

John was a bit overwhelmed by the rapid fire delivery of the information.  Thankfully, Givens had prepped him for most of that. Having to lower his shields to strangers and making himself vulnerable was going to be hard, but he would do whatever was necessary to cooperate fully.  There was no way he would risk taking drugs if he was pregnant. He’d know for sure by then but he still planned to cooperate. 

“And then, there’s the other matter involving Sentinel Holmes.”  John’s blood froze as she gestured to Elliot, who then handed Givens another folder. “These are the charges against your alpha sentinel, Guide Watson.  They are fairly serious, as charges go. Breaking and entering, aiding and abetting the escape of a valuable asset within the Tower and assaulting two Protectors.” 

John felt ill.  He had hoped that they would overlook Sherlock’s involvement but he should have known better.   
  
“So we’ll be holding a Tribunal for Sentinel Holmes, as well.”  John glanced quickly at Sherlock, who was looking grim but resigned.  

“We’ll prosecute Homes and I’ll make sure to give him the maximum punishment. Unless....”  John’s attention snapped back to the Alpha Prime. “Unless you, Guide Watson, agree to come to the press conference and let the public know that the unidentified guide that escaped the first Hunt in twenty years is unharmed and safe.”  
  
Speechless with astonishment and anger at the blatant manipulation, John couldn’t answer right away.  By the time he’d gathered his thoughts, Sherlock was on his feet. “He will not expose his identity to the public.  If it was revealed that John is the unidentified guide, he would be hounded unmercifully. We do dangerous work and this is an unacceptable risk. I won’t allow it!”  

This last sentence was directed straight at John.  It was an order from his alpha and John’s omega instinct was to obey him unquestioningly.  But, as he’d told Sherlock before they’d bonded, he’d not allow his alpha to steamroll over him if he disagreed. 

Before Sherlock could go on, John replied to Hayes. “I’ll do it.”  John ignored his alpha’s outrage and surprise at his defiance as Sherlock turned on him. 

The detective’s tone sounded desperate. “Consider this before you act. You wouldn’t have a moment’s peace if your name is known.” 

“Sherlock, I have considered this.  I’m guilty of all these charges. I know there will be punishment and probably some kind of imprisonment. We can’t both be confined at the same time so I’m doing this whether you want me to or not. “  
  
Sherlock turned to Givens for help.  “Can she do this? Does she have the power to determine whether the charges are dropped?”  
  
Givens nodded. “She’s the Sentinel Alpha Prime, Sherlock.  And the Tower is not a democracy. It’s basically a dictatorship.” The lawyer glanced at Hayes and then back to Sherlock.  “She can do anything she likes and we have no recourse.” 

Sherlock tried once more to appeal to John.  “Please, John. This is too dangerous!”  He lowered his voice and spoke in John’s ear.  “Think of our child, John.”  

The doctor registered a surprised reaction from Hayes at that statement but ignored it.  “That’s just it, Sherlock. I am thinking of us.  I can do this. The members of the press don't need to know my whole name. Also, you’re an expert at disguise and you have an excellent disguise kit. I’ve seen it.  You can change my appearance enough to make it difficult to identify me, can’t you?”    

Sherlock sat up eagerly, “Yes, of course I can do.  But I’ll need some time and my kit is at home. Hayes said they had the press conference in less than an hour.  There’s not enough, time.”  
  
Elliot spoke up.  “We have an excellent disguise department here in the Tower.  Some of our members do need to go undercover occasionally.”  
  
The Alpha Prime spoke up also. “Yes, that’s very true. Not all of us are glorified security guards all the time, you know.” Hayes was all business again.   “Elliot, take them there and see they get what they need.  Sentinel Givens, I suggest you return to your offices and examine the information you’ve been given.  I need to go over my statements to the press. I have a lot to cover today.    
  
“John.  I know I’ve coerced you into this, but I wouldn’t have done if I hadn’t felt it was extremely important that this issue with you and the public gets sorted out.  Your situation and the lack of closure regarding what happened during the Hunt has been a public relations nightmare of unprecedented proportions. The press, the public and the government have been asking questions that we couldn’t answer and they weren’t accepting that.” 

John paused before he left to follow Sherlock. “You know, you could have just asked and I would have been willing to help.” The doctor was trying hard to hold onto his temper but it was a losing proposition.   

She gave him a smug smile.  “Yes, I could have done, but this way we both get something we wanted. You get your bond mate out of trouble and I get to solve a major problem.  It’s a win-win situation, if you ask me.”  
  
With that, she swept out of the room ahead of John, who stood there stunned.  Hayes was a talented politician and nearly as ruthless as Fitzhugh.  His admiration for her prowess increased.  She could have asked John to attend the press conference and he would have done without asking anything in return. In her mind, though, it would have made her indebted to him. But instead she just gave him Sherlock’s freedom and made them even.  It was the ideal solution and he would take it with both hands. 

He had hoped that maybe she would be lenient with him when his time came for punishment, but he wasn’t going to count on it.  Everything she did was for the good of the Tower and if that meant he’d have to pay a heavy price, she would inflict it.   

Quickly, he followed Sherlock and Elliot, who had managed to get almost to the end of the corridor ahead of him.  Elliot opened the door to one of the offices and ushered them inside. 

The room reminded John of a theatre backstage or at least the wardrobe department.  Wigs, costumes and tables with large, well lit mirrors filled the rooms.  Sherlock immediately took charge and seated John in one of the larger chairs that reclined.  Elliot was removing a selection of makeup kits from a cupboard. 

Sherlock looked down at him, face serious. “John? Are you completely sure?  You don’t have to do this.”  
  
”Yes I’m sure and yes I do have to do this.  There’s too damn much going on and you need to stay free to take care of things if I end up confined.  Even if I am identified, it’s a small price to pay to keep you safe and free. So let’s get to work.”  Sherlock looked unhappy but nodded in agreement. 

Elliot had stayed back until they had concluded their discussion and then approached with a couple of kits and placed them on the table beside John. “This makeup is safe for sentinels so I expect that you shouldn’t have any problems.  Sentinel Holmes?  Do you need assistance with this?”  
  
Sherlock was already deep in his artistic,  thinking mode.  He answered the archivist absently.  “Yes, I might.  I would appreciate it if you would stay nearby in case I need something.” 

He was looking critically and closely at his omega, eyes narrowed in concentration. “John, I’ve not got enough time to do a major change on you so it’ll have to be subtle.    The most identifiable feature you have is your nose, so I’ll start there.”  
  
John just sat back and let them work.  After about twenty minutes, Sherlock straightened up and sighed.  “Well, it’ll have to do.”  The detective spoke to Elliot.  “I think your idea of changing his hairstyle slightly was better than trying to use a wig.  Without at least another hour to integrate a wig into his actual hair, it would have stood out like a sore thumb.” 

Turning back to John, he tucked some hair back from his forehead.  “The goal here is to make it seem that this is your normal appearance, without makeup, so no one will try to look closer at you in order to discover your true identity.” 

He spun the chair to face the mirror.  John’s eyebrows went up in surprise.  If he hadn’t known who it was sitting in the chair, he’d not have recognised himself at all.  His hair appeared much darker with a slightly different style.  His eyebrows were thicker and nearly black.  Somehow, Sherlock had made his large, wide nose seem smaller and thinner and his thin lips more full.  The planes of his face were also sharper and his cheekbones higher and they’d smoothed out some of his wrinkles.  The cleft in his chin appeared deeper, too.  The detective had also given him a somewhat heavier beard, though he’d not overdone it. He was a masterpiece of makeup art.   John looked sharp, dangerous and not at all like his usual self.    
  
John beamed up at Sherlock, who had been staring at him a bit nervously, clearly worried about what he might say. “It’s brilliant, luv! The theatrical world lost out when you became the world’s only consulting alpha sentinel detective. No one will recognise me, not even my mum.  Let’s go. It’s almost show time.”   

Before they left, Sherlock handed him a shirt completely different to what he’d normally wear. The shirt was tight fitting and showed off his torso and accented his wide shoulders and trim waist.  He laughed as he looked in the mirror.  For once, his looks and dress reflected what he really was. Instead of soft and harmless, he looked sharp and rather lethal. 

Elliot led them down to the lobby.  Unlike the last time the Tower had held a press conference, this was to take place inside the new reception area in the lobby of the Tower. Apparently this was unprecedented.  Non-sentinels had rarely been allowed into the hoary and hallowed grounds of the London Sentinel Tower and never had reporters and journalists been permitted access. 

A podium had been placed in front of a large photo montage that had been recently erected against one of the walls. It certainly hadn’t been there when John and Sherlock had entered the lobby earlier in the afternoon.  It artistically depicted sentinels and guides working harmoniously together.  There were scientists, search and rescue teams, police, doctors, nurses, security and various other occupations depicted, even the military.  

John realised it was to illustrate clearly what Hayes’ new agenda would be. She intended to woo guides in with the promise of equality and full partnership in the sentinel community.  It was a brilliant strategy and John approved. It would be incredible if she could actually follow through and buck centuries of ingrained tradition.

The buzz in the room quietened as the new Sentinel Alpha Prime moved to the podium.  John wondered how things would go today. It was a momentous occasion. What happened in the next hour might very well shape the future of British sentinels and guides for decades to come.  What Hayes had to say was going to be groundbreaking and would finally turn the direction of the Towers fully toward the 21st century.   And her success or failure as a leader could be determined within the next sixty minutes. 

Moira Hayes seemed calm and in control as she looked out over the crowd of journalists and reporters seated and standing before her.  John had seen her shaking with nerves before she’d left the recesses of the building for the podium, though. The announcement of her new administration would be her first and most important official public act. It was vitally important that she make a perfect impression in order to attempt to counteract the negative public opinion of Fitzhugh’s previous administration. It was clear that she was very aware of how pivotal the next few minutes would be for the future of sentinels and guides across the nation. 

He shared her anxiety as he was ushered to stand behind her at the podium with Elliot and a couple of other Tower administrators, including Tower Secretary Wilson.  John glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, but the man didn’t acknowledge him. That was good. The last thing he wanted was a fight with the man in public.  He still wished he’d tased the officious oaf, however. 

As she began her statement, Hayes made it clear that her new administration had little in common with Fitzhugh’s and that her methods would be very different to his.  Then she officially declared the Tower’s withdrawal of support for the omega and guide rights rollback legislation that was to be voted on in the next session of Parliament.  She condemned the legislation and all that it would have attempted to do.  This created quite a stir with journalists and John felt heartened. 

With her guide Douglas by her side, Hayes outlined the changes that would be taking place within the Tower in the ensuing months and years. She described how the Tower would no longer pursue unbonded guides but would actively work to woo and recruit with offers of real work, education, training and opportunities for a better life. 

Hayes promised that all guides would finally be treated as equals to sentinels. No longer would they be bonded immediately upon identification but would now, for the first time in the history of the London Tower, be allowed to meet with potential bond mates and would be permitted to choose whomever they felt was most compatible.  Finally gone were the days of forced bondings. 

Hayes urged people who were jobless in the tough economy to come in to be tested, but assured them they would not be forced into being a guide if they later changed their minds. 

She then asked for questions from the press and they came fast and furious.   John watched in wonder as she shortly had them eating out of her hand.  It was demonstrated to him again that Hayes was quite the consummate politician and he listened with growing admiration. 

Then the question John had been dreading was asked and the person doing the asking was the same omega activist John had seen at Fitzhugh’s press conference. 

“Sentinel Hayes! How do we know that your new administration is going to treat omegas better than you have done in the past?  You have yet to account for the whereabouts and well being of the last omega guide your Tower had in its hands and who is now missing.  It’s been over four weeks and there has been no official statement regarding this person since before the Hunt was called off and Fitzhugh was removed from leadership of the London Sentinel Tower.   Do you have any information about this unfortunate person?” 

Hayes stood tall and imposing at the podium and addressed the questioner directly.  “Mr Dean, is it?  Yes, this Tower has a history of treating omega guides possessively.”  The omega activist snorted in disbelief at that understatement.  Hayes raised her voice and looked out over the crowd. “However, that’s also going to change.  We will respect the rights of omega guides as we will the beta guides.  They will always have a choice to be a part of this community if they wish. No more coercion.  

“As the Sentinel Alpha Prime, I have the authority to create new laws or strike down old ones for my Tower. As of last week, the one that mandates automatic Tower custody of an omega guide has been rescinded.”  There was a quiet murmuring from the crowd and a restless shifting as the press absorbed this information.  

Dean was still standing. “That’s all well and good, Alpha, but what about the omega guide you had captured, the one that everyone saw abused and dragged away to the Tower?  No one has seen him in over four weeks and there was a rumour that he’d been abducted and carried away by persons unknown.  There is another rumour that he’s died in your custody. You must know something. The entire country wants to know what has happened!” 

“I understand, Mr Dean. I personally won’t explain it to you but I will let the omega guide do it for himself.”   The room erupted in shouts and exclamations as the reporters all tried to ask questions at the same time, many of them standing up in an attempt to get her attention. 

It took a few moments for order to return to the room and then Hayes continued. “Before I ask him to come up here, I want you to please respect his privacy and know he will not answer questions about his full name or his family.”  She turned to the doctor and gestured for him to approach. She spoke to him quietly. “Just do your best to answer whatever questions you feel are appropriate. I’ll be here as will James and Tom, in case you need us.”  
  
With that, she stepped back to make room for him at the podium.  He had given presentations before but this was incredibly different.  It looked like a million people were all staring at him, filming his every move and it was terrifying.   John stared out over the group, stomach in knots, and wondered where to begin. At least his shields were strong and very much in place.  The emotional ambience of the place was a churning miasma  of chaos and it wouldn’t do to get swept up in it all.   

It was important not to reveal too much about himself but at the same time put on a good enough show to get the press off the backs of the Tower.  It was vital that Sherlock not be prosecuted and he had to give his best performance. So where to begin? 

He didn’t have to worry because they began shouting questions at him all at once. 

He held up his hands, palms out toward them in a warding motion. “Stop. Please stop! Look, I’ll start this off the simple way. My name is John. As you can see, I’m just fine.  Any damage done was minor and I’m fine.” 

Someone he couldn’t see shouted at him. “Are you under any kind of coercion right now? Is anyone from the Tower forcing you to do this?” 

John peered out into the crowd, trying to see who asked the question. “Um. No, I’m doing this willingly. No one is forcing me to be here.”  It was pretty much true and not exactly a lie. It seemed to satisfy some but another question was shouted.

”We saw your capture. Have you been in the Tower all this time or did you escape?” 

This was a tricky question and he made sure not to mention Sherlock’s complicity in his getaway. “I escaped the same day I was taken and I left the country.”  This seemed to excite the reporters with the possibilities of adventure added to the story. 

“Why did you come back?”

”I had heard that there was a change in leadership at the Tower.  Frankly, I didn’t think anyone could possibly be as bad as Fitzhugh and was willing to take my chances to come home.  I would have stayed away otherwise.” There were some chuckles at that.  

A blond reporter that John vaguely recognised from the telly raised his arm to be acknowledged. “Are you bonded now?” 

“Yes, I’m bonded to a sentinel I knew before the Tower found me.” 

Dean spoke up and thankfully changed the subject. “John, you’re definitely an omega guide, right?”  John nodded reluctantly. 

“Obviously you successfully and understandably hid that you are a guide from everyone, especially the Towers, for most of your life. Were you also hiding your gender and if so, why?” 

John thought for moment, trying to decide what to say. He decided to be straightforward. “I deliberately chose to hide because I would have been strongly discouraged from my choice of career had my gender been known.  Things are somewhat different now, thankfully, but when I was growing up in the ‘70’s, if you were an omega, you were expected to bond young and have a family, not follow a career. Even though the reforms had given omegas more rights, the approved careers for omegas didn’t even begin to include what I wanted to do.  

“I wasn’t going to let society dictate my life, so with the support of my family and use of heat suppressants, I was able to do what I wanted.”  John felt a bit strange talking about heat suppressants to a bunch of strangers, but what he’d done to hide his omega status wasn’t illegal.  

“You mean a career in the military?” John grimaced and nodded slowly. It wasn’t like they didn’t know that anyway. 

Someone else asked, “Just to clarify your motives, why exactly did you hide and then run after the Warrant had been issued?” 

John laughed a bit at that question.  “Well, put yourself in my place.  I had a career and a life. If I’d been captured and forced to live in the Tower, my life would have been destroyed and the career I’d worked so hard to achieve would have to be abandoned.  Also, I had met someone by then.”  The reporters moved forward at that bit of information, sensing a good story.  John wasn’t sure if he should have mentioned that but it was a vital piece of information about his motivations.  

“What do you mean, you met someone? You mean your new bond mate?”  
  
John sighed and considered.  “Yes. I had never wanted to bond before, but then I met an alpha sentinel and everything changed. He knew what I was and we were in the process of sorting things out. We were negotiating for our future, if you will and hadn’t yet made a decision about bonding.   

“Then he was called out of the country for work. I wasn’t too worried, since the omega/guide rollback legislation wasn’t coming up for a vote for a few months. I thought we had plenty of time to decide what to do.  It was then that the Warrant of Custody was delivered. Every decision directly affecting my future hinged on what my alpha wanted to do but he was gone. It was too important to discuss over the phone and I needed him to return first and give me his answer.  So I ran to gain time.”    

“Do you intend to sue the Tower for causing you harm? From the videos, it appeared you were seriously injured.” 

John hadn’t thought of that and wondered if that could be used to negotiate with the judges or Hayes. 

“I’d honestly not got that far ahead with things. I’ve just been back a short time. I seriously doubt it, though.  I gave as good as I got most of the time, so I figure we’re even.”  That felt like the right thing to say, mainly because it was very true and the press knew it. 

“Do you support Sentinel Alpha Prime Hayes in her reforms?” 

It didn’t take him even a moment to answer with complete honesty and conviction. “I think her ideas are absolutely brilliant. If she had been the leader of the London Sentinel Tower when I was younger, I would have seriously considered a career as a guide if it meant I could study the subjects I wanted. What she’s offering is unprecedented in the history of the sentinel/guide community and it deserves a fair chance to succeed.  

“Every young person needs a good education and a challenging career to succeed in life.  This is what she’s offering to those who have what it takes.  Any guide or sentinel has an excellent opportunity here and I urge those who are the least bit curious to come in and be tested.” He was rather surprised by his vehemence and took in a deep breath.   

“John! Would you be willing to be interviewed about your experience with the Tower and the former Sentinel Alpha Prime?  The public is eager to know more about you.”  And no doubt a scoop like that could make a journalist’s career, as well. 

John’s mouth opened but nothing came out.  There was no way he wanted to give a one-on-one interview to anyone. He’d hoped that this press conference was it for him.  Turning, he gave Hayes a beseeching look. Did she want him to do this?  
  
Hayes took that moment to step back up to the podium and put a comforting hand on John’s shoulder. “Thank you all for coming but I’m afraid we’re out of time. Any other questions can be directed to the head of our PR department, Sentinel Nicolas Reid, Tower Secretary Wilson or Guide Prime James Douglas. Thank you all so much!”  Waving to the crowd, she took John gently by the elbow and led him out of the room, flanked by Elliot and Douglas.   
  
John’s mind had blanked out for those few moments but was pathetically glad that Hayes had stopped the press conference at that point. He had no idea how to respond to that question other than a resounding “No!”  He had a feeling that subject wasn’t going to be let go easily by the journalists and dreaded having to deal with it again.

Then Sherlock was there and John was gathered in a firm embrace.  He held tight to his alpha and breathed in his calming scent.  It was then he realised he was shaking from the adrenalin crash. Did he do well enough to ensure Sherlock wouldn’t be prosecuted? If it had all been for nothing, he didn’t know what he would do.

”You were brilliant out there, John.”  Sherlock was proud of him, he could feel it. That was all he needed to know. Everything was suddenly all right, even if Hayes didn’t agree. 

“Yes, John. You did better than we ever anticipated and your support of our reforms just about guarantees their acceptance.  In fact, I would wager that we will start getting calls from prospective guides based on your enthusiastic endorsement.”  Hayes was smiling gently at him, her eyes twinkling with amusement.  John was relieved and wanted to test that she was being honest with him, but didn’t dare use his empathy on her with her guide standing right beside her. 

It took just a few minutes to get the makeup off his face and they were on their way home. He’d have to shower to get the temporary dye out of his hair, but that was minor.  Feeling restless and enervated by the experience, he looked forward to getting home and trying to relax.  He wondered what the fallout of the conference would mean for him and Sherlock.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Once they finally got into the flat, John rang for Chinese take-away, fixed tea for them both and then curled up in his chair to watch the news conference replay while Sherlock spent the time going through the files Lestrade had brought over the day before.  

Watching the press conference was very different to actually being there.  On the telly,  Hayes looked confident and masterful as she delivered her statement to the press.  When it was John’s turn at the podium, the doctor squirmed to see himself looking like a stranger. It was odd and his voice sounded weird. 

“Yes, you do sound like that and no it’s not weird.” Sherlock’s amused voice projected over the sound on the television, interrupting John’s thoughts. 

Once again, Sherlock had read his mind. “Git,” he muttered into his mug of tea, trying hard not to smile. He still thought he sounded strange.  
  
”I heard that.” Sherlock sounded even more amused than before.

“I know. I do occasionally remember that you’re a bloody sentinel. Now let me finish watching this disaster.”  John pulled his knees up to his chest and continued to sip his tea. 

Sherlock looked up from his work. “John. It wasn’t a disaster. You accomplished a considerable amount today and I could tell Hayes and Douglas were pleased with you.  I didn’t thank you yet for saving me from prosecution by doing that, did I?”  
  
He gave his sentinel a lascivious grin, waggled his eyebrows and winked. “You can thank me later tonight if you like,” and giggled when Sherlock returned to his work with his face flushed scarlet.  The doctor turned back to the telly with a huge smile on his face. He’d got the last word for once. 

The press conference had ended and the talking heads were on the screen, being introduced by the same blonde newscaster as last time, Linda something-or-other.  John listened with half an ear to the commentary. As usual, experts in sentinel/guide culture had been enlisted to share their thoughts with the public.  A Dr Taliaferro was speaking at the moment. John didn’t know what his specialty was, but he thought the man was involved in academia somehow. 

“The Sentinel Alpha Prime has begun a new era of unprecedented expansion of the Tower.  Her historic reforms will revolutionise sentinel/guide relationships and alter the Tower’s place for the better in our community.  I suspect there will be an increase in applications for guide testing if she can follow through with her promises of guide education and training.”  
  
Another person on the panel spoke up and John thought he recognised MP Garrigan from Fitzhugh’s earlier press conference discussion.  “I agree with Dr Taliaferro that this will cause major change across the country and within all the Towers.  There will no doubt be some resistance but this is a clear cut case of out with the old and in with the new. It’s about time that the Towers embraced the 21st century.  

“And what I find most exciting about this, Linda, is that with the withdrawal of support from London's Sentinel Tower most of the politicians that helped to write and push through the omega/guide rollback legislation have left the Traditionalists’ party like rats leaving a sinking ship.  There is so little support for this legislation now that it is very possible it wlll be withdrawn rather than voted on next month." The man’s voice was positively gleeful. 

The blonde news reader smiled and nodded.  “Now what do you think of the Tower finally responding to the demands of the public to account for the guide that was the focus of their Hunt four weeks ago?  Do you think that was truly the same man we saw on those videos?” 

Both the doctor and MP nodded.  Garrigan spoke first. “I believe it was the same man and I think I can speak for most of our country when I say I was very relieved to see that he was unharmed and frankly seemed to be thriving now that he’s bonded.  He was quite straightforward in his defence of Hayes' proposals and I was impressed with his honesty.” 

”I agree, Minister. I think he was quite brave to come forward and I applaud him for being willing to explain himself.  I was also glad to know he was all right and that the mystery of what happened to him in the hands of the Tower is now clear.  I wish him the best.” 

John sighed and turned off the broadcast, not willing to finish listening to the pundits analyse it all to death. They hadn't mentioned that he was an omega guide yet and he didn't want to hear it. All he really cared about was that his performance had done what Hayes had wanted and Sherlock was no longer in danger of prosecution.  

She’d said as much when they’d left the Tower but he’d been so overwhelmed by all the attention from the crowd, none of it had really sunk in yet.  He hoped she wasn’t going to require him to give any personal interviews, though he’d do it in a heartbeat if it meant keeping Sherlock safe and out of the public eye. 

He checked his watch. The take-away wouldn’t be arriving for another fifteen minutes or so.  Feeling restless, he got up and wandered around the flat for a few minutes, knowing it would drive Sherlock round the twist.  Finally he sat himself down beside his sentinel and began to examine some of the files.  

“So what makes you think these feet are related to missing twins? Do you think twins are being abducted and killed by the same person?” 

“Well, the feet do come from a pair of identical twins. The DNA report confirmed it.  There have been a series of missing twins throughout the country and in Europe. We're getting samples from the missing to compare and should know something in the next few weeks. I think we can discount the ones in Europe, though, because most of the bodies have been found or if they are missing, there’s other evidence suggesting they aren’t dead but left of their own free will.  The ones here in the UK, though, seem different. Look at the ages of the twins that are missing.”  Sherlock handed John a paper with a list of names, addresses and ages. 

He scanned the names and ages. “They seem to be from all around London. The only ages not represented here below 70 are young children. I thought serial killers tended to stick with a particular type.”

“He  _is_  sticking with a type. All these missing twins are identical. None are fraternal. If I’m correct, he’s collecting identical twins of all ages. The only age he’s not got yet is a pre-pubescent. It may be he’s just not got around to that or they’re harder to obtain.  I’ve not got enough information yet. All of this is speculative, but I am certain he’s got some kind of fascination with twins.”  Sherlock immersed himself in the files again, humming in concentration.  
  
John sighed and picked up a file with some photos.  The first one he looked at was the site on the Thames where they’d found the feet, but before anyone had been allowed near them. The photograph didn’t have the quality of the normal forensic photographer’s but it was clear enough.

He turned the photo back and forth and stared at it from various angles, noticing something strange on the shoreline near the water that he’d not seen before.

Pointing at it, he nudged Sherlock, “What’s this, luv?  Are these foot prints at the shoreline?  I don’t remember seeing them before.”

”That’s because they were mostly washed away by the time we arrived.  The foot prints were deliberately meant to be eradicated and it was only dumb luck that one of the first witnesses had the mental capacity to take a photo with their mobile of the site before they actually approached the shoes.” 

“So who made the foot prints?” 

“I think the killer made the prints when he placed the feet on the shore.” 

John was confused.  “I thought the shoes had washed up from the river. They certainly were soaked.” 

“Yes, they were wet but I believe the killer soaked them in the water just before he placed them on the shore deliberately. They’d not been immersed for any length of time.  Molly’s autopsy confirmed my suspicions.  I believe he was trying to fool the police and it worked. But he didn’t fool me.” 

“You suspected they had been placed there from the beginning? Had you seen the prints at the time? You didn’t mention them.” 

“I didn’t mention them because I thought the killer might have been watching us. There was an excellent chance he was with the crowd on the bridge, which was part of why I went up there to check.  But I zoned before I could properly scan the crowd.”  Sherlock’s response was rueful. 

“Why did he put the feet there? What purpose did it serve?” 

Sherlock steepled his fingers together and rested them on his lips as he thought deeply.  He replied carefully to John’s question. “I believe it is his announcement of intent, if you will.  He is introducing himself to me.  I am fairly certain he wanted me brought in on this because this is exactly the kind of case I’d be called in to early on in the investigation. No doubt he has studied my methods through my website or your blog and anticipated what the police would do when faced by something so bizarre. 

“If what I suspect is true, he has got away with killing before and now he is ready to take credit for what he has done. What better way for a serial killer to announce himself to the world than to demand the attention of the world’s only consulting alpha sentinel detective?” 

John raised his eyebrows but said nothing.  Sherlock was egotistical but he had reason to be and he was more often correct about odd things like this than not.  So far, some of his observations about this case seemed to be a bit of a stretch, but again, John would stack Sherlock’s intuition against another’s actual observations any day of the week. If Sherlock thought this criminal had deliberately placed the feet in that location to gain his attention, it was likely true. 

Sherlock continued.  “We were able to get some prints off the rubber of the soles and it’s possible they belong to the killer. Lestrade found no matches in the database, though. 

“Molly has analysed the fabric of the socks and trainers. The toxicology report on the feet is finally in as well.  It seems the feet had both been infused with formalin at some point, though there wasn’t enough to prevent decomposition.  There was evidence the feet had been frozen at one point and there were trace amounts of silicone rubber in the socks and trainers.  I know the combination means something, but I can’t think what. It might be something that I’ve deleted.” 

Those two items also rang a bell with John, but only in combination with another substance. “Was there evidence of chemical desiccation of the tissues as well?”  

“Yes, in fact there was. It wasn’t complete though.” 

“Then we might be looking for someone who is involved in plastination.” John turned to look directly as Sherlock, who was frowning.  

“Surely you remember. The exhibit here earlier this year at the Natural History Museum with all the plastinated animals? You didn’t hear about it? There was also another exhibit of humans at the O2 a few years ago, but I was in Afghanistan and missed that one. Those were some of the most popular exhibits ever… never mind.”  He shook his head at Sherlock’s expression of disdain.   

That expression changed dramatically when the detective seemed to remember something, however. Understanding dawned on the detective’s face and it was beautiful to see. 

“Yes, I remember now about plastination. It’s a way to preserve body parts for anatomic study. You must have seen and handled plastinated body parts when in med school.” John nodded as Sherlock hopped up and began pacing back and forth in front of him.  

“So maybe he’s plastinating his kills. That’s an incredibly ingenious way for a serial killer to keep a trophy permanently! But he’d need special equipment, supplies and a large place to do the procedures. Also a permanent location to keep and display his trophies! That will be the way to track him!” 

He paced a bit more and stopped in front of John. “But if he’s doing plastination, why weren’t the feet plastinated? It’s clear to me that he left them there deliberately.”  
  
John considered for a moment. ”Maybe he couldn’t plastinated them. Were the cells destroyed by the freezing?”  
  
”Yes, that’s how we could tell they were frozen at some point.”  
  
”Maybe that has something to do with it. The water in the cells has to be replaced by an acetone solution and if he didn't freeze the specimins properly before he tried to dehydrate them, it may not have worked because the cell walls were no longer intact. Or maybe he just cocked up the procedure and froze the feet for another reason.” 

Sherlock took up the narration, excitement making his voice even deeper. “Which means he was likely experimenting!  Once the feet were thawed, they would begin decomposing much more quickly than they normally would and he would have had no more use for them. So he could sacrifice them. If we can identify these twins, we’ll know when they went missing and when the killer started to learn to plastinate.”   

“Exactly.  So it’s likely he’s perfected his procedure and now is ready to draw some attention to himself, daring you to come find him.”  
  
A thought struck John. ”Could he be playing with you, trying to challenge you like that crazy bastard we were chasing last year?”  John was taking a chance bringing that up again.  Sherlock had been so fascinated by the bomber and they had argued bitterly about it.  It was still a very sore point for John and the detective remained mystified and disappointed about the bomber’s sudden disappearance.  

John had never told Sherlock what had happened.  The doctor was fairly sure Sherlock still didn’t know for certain that the bomber had been the mysterious Moriarty; though he was fairly certain the detective suspected that it was so.  

The man John had recognised as Jim from Bart’s IT department had introduced himself fully when he’d abducted the doctor.  Moriarty had sent his guards away to position themselves at the pool, thinking John was subdued and secure. He proceeded to gloat about how he was going to destroy everything Sherlock cared about and then get the detective to destroy himself.  Moriarty had had no one left to protect him when John escaped from his bonds. 

When Sherlock had turned up at the pool with the plans on the jump drive, there had been no one there to greet him and he’d gone home bitterly frustrated. The master criminal had never shown up and his henchmen fled when their employer had vanished. 

Only John and possibly Mycroft knew what had happened and where the body was hidden.  Not knowing what had happened to the bomber annoyed the detective to no end, but John wasn’t going to tell him anything.    

“I think he’s taunting me like our bomber did. He’s daring me to catch him.  He thinks he’s smarter than I am and wants to prove it.” 

John agreed and began jotting down notes. “So let’s summarise.  Your working theory is that this is someone who has killed before, possibly multiple times. And this is based on the fact that there are missing identical twins all over the area and you think they’re connected.”  
  
”Yes.  We can’t solidly link all the twins to him yet, but if we can it means he has some kind of fascination with identical twins.  That’s one possible way to track him, though a very difficult path. 

“The feet were a calling card.  I believe he left those feet for me deliberately and, based on the trace residues, he wanted me to come to the conclusion that he’s working with plastination. I suspect he’s now ready to reveal what he can do. Maybe he wants to share with me what he's done. It wouldn't be the first time." 

John shuddered at that thought but he suspected that his alpha was correct. “So, now what do we do? How do we track this person?” 

Sherlock had resumed pacing as he considered the situation. “Unless we can uncover another major clue or more body parts surface, I’m afraid it’s going to come down to old fashioned police work.  From what I gather, it’s fairly easy to get the materials needed to do plastination on a small scale, but it might be easier to track the ingredients if they’re purchased in large lots. I’m sure one would need government permission or license to handle body parts for dissection but I don’t think our killer is particularly worried about that.”  

John spoke up as he continued to take notes. “The killer would need large metal tanks, an explosion-proof vacuum pump and enormous amounts of formalin, acetone, silicone rubber and catalyst to plastinate one entire human body, let alone two. Some kind of refrigeration will be necessary. A large amount of space will be needed and he’ll have to keep the acetone from any kind of ignition source so a separate room just for desiccation will be important. He’ll need  to make a trap with dry ice to capture the escaping acetone as the silicone replaces it. Most of what he needs can be bought at your local DIY, though.”  

John scratched his head as another thought hit him.  “He’ll need all that equipment unless he’s dissecting the bodies and just plastinating specific parts. The amount of stuff he’d need would be much less if so.  That’s definitely an option and maybe what he’s actually doing, if we go by the feet.”  

Sherlock hummed at that possibility, lines appearing between his brows as he thought.  “I suppose he could be doing that but since we don’t know for sure, the best way to start for now is to see if we can trace businesses that sell large amounts of formalin, acetone and silicone rubber and get the sales and distribution lists.”   
  
”You can buy acetone at Boots and small amounts at any chemists' shop. But in large amounts, without the use of a fume hood, it’s very dangerous to handle.  Acetone is also used to make methamphetamine and its use is why meth labs blow up so often. It’s incredibly flammable and has a very low flash point. The vapours can travel along surfaces and flash back if it finds an ignition point.” 

Sherlock nodded in agreement.  “Understood. Let’s start by seeing if we can get a list of people who are ordering large amounts from the suppliers first. We can then cross reference them with people who have legitimate permission to plastinate human remains and those who don’t.  It’s going to take some time, but we might be able to get Mycroft to help, as well.”  Sherlock got his mobile out and began to dial. 

The bell rang at that moment and John belatedly remembered the take away he’d ordered.  His wallet was empty of money, so he picked up Sherlock’s which was still full of cash from their escape to France.   
  
Trotting down the stairs, he could smell the appetising scent of the food before he even opened the door.  Transaction complete, John watched the delivery man cycle off into the evening.  He turned to go back inside but something made him glance around sharply as he stood in the doorway.  The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up in a way he’d not experienced since before he’d returned from Afghanistan.  Someone was watching him.

Quickly he closed the door and locked it securely.   He sent out a tendril of empathy and searched the area but only picked up the normal atmosphere of the Baker Street area he would have expected in the early evening hours. There was no sense of menace or danger but he wasn’t able to get a good lock on anyone. 

However, it was odd that his senses had reacted that way.  Could a reporter from the press conference have followed him home and was watching?  He was pretty sure that the employees at the Tower were not paid that much and it would probably be tempting to give out his name if someone were to offer enough money.  John had thought he’d got away without being recognised but maybe it was too much to hope for to remain anonymous.  He’d deal with it when the time came and turned to bring dinner to his alpha. 

When John got up the stairs, Sherlock was still on the phone with his brother so he set the cartons of food out on the table.  He wondered if he should mention to Sherlock about his feeling of being watched.  It could be he was just reacting to a very stressful day but he’d never been wrong about that before.  He was tired and hungry and so tucked into his dinner while Sherlock continued to speak to Mycroft.    
  
John was nearly done when Sherlock sat down with a sigh and picked up his chopsticks.  “Mycroft will help. His computers will track the sale of the chemicals and he’ll provide us with a list of the top consumers.  We’ll have to do all the leg work, though, the lazy git. Not that I expected anything different.” 

“He is still recovering from a gunshot wound, remember.” 

Sherlock huffed impatiently.  “Yes, I remember.  He saved your life, I’ll never be able to repay him, blah blah yadda yadda.  He’s still a lazy git.” 

John just shook his head and stole some of Sherlock’s dinner.  Eating kept him from having to reply. 

“By the way, Mycroft has made an appointment for you on Monday at the tailor’s I mentioned the other day. The one on Marshall Street.” 

When John made a face, Sherlock glared at the omega.  “You need a suit for Mummy’s party. The owner is out of town but his top people will be there for us first thing Monday morning.”  
   
John’s mood soured at the thought of the party and he poked at the remains of his dinner with his chopsticks.  The only reason he was even considering going was because Sherlock had practically begged him.  The timing of the occasion was bad too. It would be just before  the Tribunal was to convene and he knew he was going to be stressed no matter what. 

He frowned at Sherlock. “That only leaves the tailor a few weeks to make a suit for me. Is that enough time? I thought it could take eight to ten weeks to have a bespoke suit made.”  Why couldn’t he just go to a good quality men’s clothing shop and get a ready-made suit?

“They have ready-to-wear suits that can be fitted to you in plenty of time. Mark promised alterations could be done in less than three weeks and Mummy’s party is in six.  Anyway, we’ll choose a classic style without anything fancy. I want to get you measured for shoes as well, but those can take up to twenty weeks to make, so we’ll find something else for you in the mean time.”  

John grumbled a grudging agreement and stuffed the last of his vegetable lo mein in his mouth, chewing resentfully. 

Sherlock looked the doctor seriously.  “John, this is important.  You need to make a good impression with her.  Having a finely made suit will go a long way toward that, trust me. Mummy notices and judges people accordingly, based on how you look and who makes your clothes.  It will be one less thing that she can use against you if you continue to defy her expectations.”  
  
”Shouldn’t she be trying to make a good impression with me instead of the other way round?” John was still resentful and his expression was tight. 

“I think so, but that’s not how it works. My mother is brilliant but she can be vain and arrogant.  She’s not well disposed toward you at the moment but that will change. Please cooperate and play along with me. I know how to handle her.”  John reluctantly agreed to do as his alpha asked.  It made him feel better about the situation knowing Sherlock would take care of him.  

Much to John’s bemusement, Sherlock began to eat with serious appetite, despite being on a case.  When John pointed this out, Sherlock raised his eyebrow at him in surprise.   
  
”This case is going to be a take a long time to solve, John. Unless we get a major clue or literally stumble over the killer, we’ll have to slog for weeks, possibly months, through this information. If I don’t eat, I’ll starve!”  John laughed at Sherlock’s indignant look and leaned over to kiss it off his face.  They finished their dinner in comfortable silence. 

As he began to gather the remains of their meal, John remembered the feeling he’d had of being observed. “By the way, I think someone is watching us.”   
  
”Did you see anyone?”  Sherlock stood up and followed John into the kitchen. 

John put the rubbish in the bin and the leftovers in the fridge. “No, I didn’t see anyone but when I answered the door to pay for the take away, I felt that I was being watched.” 

He closed the door to the refrigerator and crossed his arms.  “I would often get that same feeling in Afghanistan when we were on missions. It meant we were under observation and I was always right once I had a chance to search with my empathy.  I searched the area this time as well, but couldn’t pick up anything, at least not at the moment.  I can’t tell you why they’re watching; only that someone was out there.”  
  
Sherlock pulled at his lip and left the room to stand and gaze out of the front windows into the darkness. “I’ll keep a watch out and if you pick up this feeling again, please let me know right away.  It could be nothing but I don’t want to take any chances.” 

John agreed and went to watch some crap telly for the rest of the evening.  He was tired and he just wanted to relax and forget about everything for a while. He had plenty of time to start worrying about things and he just wanted to enjoy some time alone with his alpha. 

While they prepared for bed, John watched as Sherlock sat on the bed nude and stretched.  His alpha was beautiful, with porcelain skin and sturdy, sinewy muscles that just demanded to be caressed.  Walking on his knees on the bed, John shuffled up behind Sherlock, put his arms around him and began to kiss him on his neck. He nuzzled and licked at the mole on the right side of his throat, alternating with tiny nips.  Sherlock arched his neck to give him more access as John stroked his sentinels’ chest and shoulders.   
  
Even after more than a month, the doctor still couldn’t believe that Sherlock was his. That he could touch and kiss this remarkable man as often as he wanted and be able to tell him he was loved without fear of rejection.  It didn’t seem possible that he deserved anything so incredibly precious or that he could ever be so lucky.  It was as if he’d won the largest lottery in the world. It didn’t seem real and he wanted to pinch himself sometimes. But it was real and he was actually living his fantasy.  

He hummed his contentment as he continued to kiss and lick around his alpha’s ears and roll his nipples, both of which were incredibly sensitive.  Sherlock leaned back into him and breathed deeply, relaxing into the gentle embrace. 

After a few minutes, Sherlock turned around, took John into his arms and kissed him deeply.  John melted into his alpha’s hold and whispered, “I love you.”  
  
The detective smiled devilishly into the kiss. “Then show me how much.” 

John gave him a nip and asked, “What do you want tonight, then?  I’m not going to be up for anything overly enthusiastic, though. It’s been a long day.”  
  
“Then let me do all the work.”  

Sherlock gently put John down on his back in the middle of the bed.  “Put your hands up over your head, hold onto the headboard and relax. I’ve got you.”  
  
Absolutely trusting, John lay back as his alpha began to tenderly kiss him, slowly deepening the kiss until they were both panting and breathless. The detective gave him a quick kiss on the cleft of his chin and began to kiss and lick down to the base of his throat.  He moved down to the omega’s nipples and licked and sucked at them.  John’s nipples had been feeling very sensitive and he cried out as Sherlock pulled one deep into his mouth and flicked it with his tongue.  It almost hurt at first and then it felt as if the nub was directly connected to his penis and womb.  The doctor writhed in delight and gripped Sherlock’s head, urging him to continue.   
  
Sherlock gave the nipple another hard suck, causing John’s hips to buck upward and then the detective moved to the other nipple, encouraging a similar reaction from the doctor. John moaned in disappointment as Sherlock moved away from his chest but then realised where his alpha was heading when he took John’s shaft in his hand.

Barely able to speak, he gripped Sherlock’s hair and pulled lightly.  When Sherlock looked up in confusion, John smiled and cupped his face.  “You don’t have to do that, luv. It’s really not necessary.  I want to come with you inside me, anyway.” 

John loved receiving oral sex but had heard from other omegas that alphas rarely if ever performed it.  Sherlock was an extremely generous lover but had never offered to do this before so John had assumed the detective simply wasn’t interested.   
  
“It’s all right, John.  I want to do this for you.  I’ve been meaning to offer but we never seemed to get around to it. Do you want this?”  
  
John had trouble answering and his penis jerked in Sherlock’s hand.  “I’m taking that as a yes,” Sherlock smirked, and he licked John’s shaft from root to tip, causing the doctor to shout his name.   
  
He knew his member wasn’t anywhere near as large as his alpha’s but it was a respectable size for an omega.  He was larger than most betas he’d met and he also had a small knot, unlike a beta.  He’d used it to some effect with some of his previous lovers and now that he knew how delicious it felt, he was glad he had been able to give the same pleasure to others. 

But right now he was on a cloud of bliss as Sherlock’s beautiful mouth closed around him. He couldn’t help his hips jerking forward, but the detective was able to take him deep and swallowed.  He could only take a few moments and he was too close, but his alpha sensed it and pulled off, much to John’s dismay and relief.  He really wanted to come with his alpha inside him. Instead, Sherlock moved to suck and lick at his testicles instead and it was almost too much. He could feel his testicles begin to draw up but the detective carefully pulled them down and gently squeezed at the base of his shaft and the urgency retreated. 

Gasping and shaking in arousal, John found himself being pulled into a sitting position and Sherlock switching places with him.  The alpha was now on his back in the centre of the bed, his shaft pulsating and nearly purple with arousal.  John found himself nearly salivating at the sight and aching to have it inside him.  His nipples, penis and womb seemed to throb with excitement at each frantic beat of his heart.   

“Straddle me and sit back.  I’ll do the work, I promise.” It was clear Sherlock wanted John to ride him. 

As instructed, John knelt over Sherlock and smoothly guided his alpha into himself. The doctor’s entrance was very wet with arousal and the sensation of the flaring head and shaft of the huge member stretching and penetrating him felt incredible. They both groaned in ecstasy as the alpha bottomed out deep inside John. Sherlock had a tight grip on his hips and he couldn’t really move.  “Just stay where you are and touch yourself for me,” Sherlock grunted as he began a slow and steady thrusting into John. 

The doctor threw his head back and moaned at the feeling of the huge penis sliding all the way up inside him and back out.  He could feel Sherlock’s knot swelling and rubbing at just the right spot, which made him want to squirm. But he stayed as still as he could, as per his alpha’s instructions.  

The knot couldn’t get as large as it would during heat but it was plenty large enough to stimulate his prostate and g-spot nearly simultaneously and the sensation of it was exquisite. He trembled and shuddered in excitement as he stroked himself for his alpha.  
  
After a steady rhythm of thrusts, Sherlock lifted his hips so he bottomed out inside John and then pulled nearly all the way out only to return, with a slight twist of his hips that made the doctor gasp.  He ground up into the omega and circled his hips, then alternated with thrusting once more. The erotic, wet sounds of Sherlock pushing in and out quickly into his sodden hole was delicious and John tightened his interior muscles, milking his alpha as Sherlock started the gentle, steady thrusts yet again. 

John reached back to tenderly caress his alpha’s testicles as he began a series of short fast, strokes, eliciting a groan of pleasure from Sherlock.  Typical of an alpha, they were very large and beginning to draw up toward his body, but John sensed the alpha wasn’t quite there yet.  

He rolled the fat ovals gently and began to pull at himself to the same rhythm as Sherlock’s strokes.  When Sherlock’s movements became more urgent he had to stop and could only hold onto the headboard with both hands as Sherlock thrust faster and faster, deeper and deeper.  

He was close and moaning Sherlock’s name with each push and pull inside him.  Movement was impossible as Sherlock held his hips so tightly they would likely bruise, but he didn’t care. Suddenly, he was there and he threw back his head and cried out his alpha’s name as he came all over Sherlock’s belly and chest.  Sherlock let out a guttural cry as he thrust up hard three more times and came deeply inside his omega. 

John was a sweaty mess but he didn’t care as he collapsed on top of his alpha.  This had turned out to be a lot more work than he’d thought but it had definitely been worth it. They embraced each other as their breathing calmed and Sherlock guided John off his chest and on his side into the middle of the bed.  He stayed inside John as long as he could and as he slipped out, he put his fingers deep inside the omega and extracted a handful of their combined secretions.  

He pushed John onto his back and began to rub the semen all over his belly and chest, as he had done nearly every time they’d made love, focusing on his lower abdomen this time instead of his nipples. It never failed to arouse John, but he was too tired to be fully appreciative.  Tonight, this ritual was more for the earthy sentinel and alpha, who wanted to make sure his guide and omega was owned and claimed.  

Once he was done, Sherlock pulled John into an embrace and immediately fell asleep.  John wasn’t far behind. It had been an incredibly busy day and he looked forward to resting for a few days before he had to start worrying again. 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 _________________________________________________________

Waking Monday morning was interesting and a bit of a chore.  John had been claimed rather thoroughly the previous night, as well as the preceding two nights and had trouble even shuffling into the loo.  Sherlock watched him smugly from the bed as John wobbled stiffly to the bath to clean up while their combined fluids ran down his legs.  And the alpha outright laughed at him when John gave him a two fingered salute with a grin before he slammed the door. 

A hot shower put everything right, especially after Sherlock had joined him.  John took a few fleeting moments to be astonished at how strong his sex drive had become since he’d bonded, even though he was nowhere near his next heat.  Even when he’d been a teenager he couldn’t remember being so eager to be with anyone.  Sherlock was exceptional, but still. He decided to put it out of his mind to be considered later, as they were running late. 

After a hurried breakfast, they took a cab down to Marshall Street. It wasn’t far but the weather was bad.  It only took about ten minutes to get there and they were let off onto a narrow street directly in front of the shop.  It had a tan stone façade and dark windows artfully displaying many different styles of men’s suits in wondrous colours. 

It was the first time John had ever stepped foot in a place like that but it was apparent that Sherlock was very familiar with the situation.  The staff members were incredibly professional and helpful as they took his measurements. Before he knew it, he had been handed a very nice cup of tea, seated in a very comfortable chair and was being shown a wide variety of ready-to-wear suits.  

It was frankly overwhelming to him. The fabrics and styles were all rich, beautiful and beyond his experience.  Now that he was bonded to Sherlock, however, it seemed that he would just have to get used to it.  Life was hard.

They chose a variety of styles and they were brought to him to try on.  Some of them made him feel awkward and self-conscious.  They’d have been more appropriate for Sherlock and he sent them back.  He finally settled on a simple classic style of dinner jacket and trousers in deep blue wool that was nearly black. The lining was a white silk that felt absolutely sinful against his skin. The suit was wonderful and John liked it immensely. As he looked at himself in the mirror, he had to admit the style flattered his physique. He turned to Sherlock questioningly to get his opinion.  
  
The sentinel joined him at the mirrors and stood close behind him, observing critically. ”You look very well in that, John.  And I think the colour suits your complexion and especially your eyes.” The last statement was nearly growled in his ear and John found himself shuddering with arousal, despite having been taken multiple times the night before.  Just being this close to his alpha raised his blood pressure.  John wondered if he would ever get used to having Sherlock as his alpha and decided that he would always feel incredibly fortunate, even when the detective was driving him round the twist.  
  
They were assured by the understanding tailors that the alterations would take less than two weeks and they would ring when the suit was ready for pickup.  Sherlock took Andre, the head tailor aside and asked, “Do you do bonding outfits as well?”  
  
”Indeed, sir, we make everything from traditional bonding gowns to very modern bonding suits. If you wish, I can send you a catalogue of what is available or Mark can design something special for you.”  

Sherlock glanced at the doctor as John listened and watched.  He wondered where this was leading. Sherlock continued.  “I’d very much like to see your latest collection of bonding suits from traditional to modern.  If we can’t find anything appropriate, we will definitely talk to Mark about commissioning a design.  Does Mark do maternity clothing?”  
  
The man smiled broadly. “We have a complete collection for all occasions in the expectant male omega’s life and I’d be proud to send you that catalogue as well.” Andre appeared thrilled at the thought of making clothes for a pregnant omega and smiled happily at John. 

“Very well.  Thank you all for your time and help with this.  We will see you again soon.”  With that, they shrugged into their coats and Sherlock swept them both out of the shop and back out onto the cold, wet early afternoon.  John shivered a bit as they walked to the nearest cross street where they could find a taxi and Sherlock pulled him close.  

“We’ll go to some other shops to get a dress shirt and some shoes. Also, I’d like you to pick out some more casual wear for when we visit Mummy and Father.  Something you’ll be more comfortable wearing.”

They hailed another taxi and were shortly on their way downtown to another clothing shop. John had not heard of this shop, either, but it seemed to carry very high end casual male clothing.  As they exited the taxi and stood under the awning that was protecting them from the cold drizzle, Sherlock’s mobile rang. 

“John, please go on inside out of the cold while I take this call. It’s from Mycroft but I’ll join you in a moment.”  He turned away to speak to his brother and John approached the entrance. 

The door creaked slightly as he pushed it open and entered. The shop was attractive with dark wood panelling everywhere and was larger inside than it seemed at first. It had a very masculine feel to it. A couple of clerks were standing  in the back, straightening merchandise.  The youngest clerk nodded and smiled at John as he closed the door behind him.  John smiled and nodded back, then turned to look around. 

John could see a wide variety of shirts, trousers, jackets, coats and jumpers attractively displayed all through the shop. There was a nice mixture of formal and casual wear, all of very high quality.  It was apparent everything was expensive because he could see no prices listed anywhere.  He wandered over to the jumpers and looked at one made of cashmere that probably cost more than he made in a month.  It was an absolutely gorgeous shade of blue and he started to reach out a hand to touch it.    
  
”May I help you, sir?” He jumped at the voice coming from his right and pulled back his hand.  An older beta with small glasses and a haughty expression was glaring at him. He was one of the sales clerks John had seen in the back and the man was looking down his nose at him, making the doctor feel like a schoolboy with his hand caught in the biscuit jar. 

“I’m just browsing right now, thank you,” John replied.  The clerk looked him up and down and sniffed, flaring his nostrils at the doctor’s omega scent mixed with his alpha’s. John blushed and turned away in embarrassment, though he knew he shouldn’t do that. Scenting a bonded omega who had been with their alpha sexually was as natural as breathing.   If the situation were reversed, he’d not have thought anything of it.  It was just that he wasn’t yet used to identifying as an omega and having strangers able to scent such things about him. 

The beta wasn’t being judgemental about John’s well-mated status, though. “Since it’s clear to me that you cannot afford to purchase anything in this shop, I must ask you to leave. The door is this way, please.”  John flushed in humiliation, but lifted his chin and straightened his spine. He turned to go only to run straight into his alpha, standing there in his expensive Belstaff coat and beautiful bespoke suit glaring in absolute disdain at the clerk.  
  
John didn’t like being sandwiched between the two and quickly moved to one side, glancing back and forth between Sherlock and the clerk. As his alpha’s arm went possessively around John and pulled him in close, the expression on the clerk’s face became almost comical.  It was apparent he realised what he’d done and that he’d cocked up royally. 

“You get paid mostly by commission, do you not?” Sherlock politely enquired.   
  
The beta swallowed and nodded. “Yes, sir.”  
  
”I wish to purchase a complete new wardrobe for my omega, formal and casual clothing as well as some winter outerwear. Price is no object. I do not want you to help us.” Sherlock looked over the man’s head and spotted the young clerk who had smiled at John in the far back.  

“You, there. You’ll help us,” the alpha demanded imperiously.   It was all John could do not to start laughing at the expression on the older beta’s face as he realised just how much money he was going to lose in commissions.    

Once they’d finally got home, John was pleasantly tired with the feeling of having had a very productive day. They’d had lunch in an excellent restaurant after shopping for clothes and then shoes. True to his word, Sherlock had bought John an entire new wardrobe.  The first thing he’d bought was the cashmere jumper John had been eyeing, just to spite the condescending clerk, who was now seriously regretting his behaviour.  

Everything they’d purchased had been sent on to Baker Street and John felt incredibly coddled and cared for. It was a feeling he wasn’t familiar with since he was very independent and had looked after himself all of his life before Sherlock. He had never permitted anyone else that privilege. Allowing his alpha to provide for him as an omega had touched something deeply primitive and primal in him.  It was surprisingly satisfying and he was simultaneously comforted and extremely content. 

Sherlock looked at him all too knowingly. “Thank you for allowing me to take care of you, John. You’re my guide and my omega. I will always look after your wellbeing. It’s important to me also.”  It reinforced what John was feeling and he felt something in his chest settle a little more securely in place.

He’d not had the chance to come to terms with his gender and what it meant to be an omega, for all he was thirty-eight years old. It was ridiculous, he knew, but now was the time he started.  Allowing his alpha to take care of his basic needs was something he could get used to pretty quickly. 

Once they’d got upstairs, Sherlock had downloaded a document from his computer and printed out a large list of company and individual names. Mycroft had come through with the list of large purchasers and distributors of the chemicals. 

He was scanning it with great attention. ”I’ll take this to Lestrade and get him to start tracking down some of these names.  Then you and I can get started on what’s left over.” Sherlock looked seriously at John.  “This is going to take some time to track down, John.  I would very much value your assistance in this.”  
  
”You’ve got it, Sherlock.  You don’t have to ask, you know that.”  John was touched that Sherlock was making the effort to include John by asking. This was unusual behaviour for Sherlock and he frowned a bit. “Has something happened that made you think I wouldn’t want to help?”  
  
Sherlock hesitated for a moment. “Well, with Mummy’s party and the Tribunal coming up in the next month or so, I didn’t know if this was something you’d want to put your energies toward.”  
  
”Actually it’s the perfect thing, Sherlock.  It’ll keep me from obsessing and worrying too much.  Just let me know what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”  John returned Sherlock’s brilliant smile. 

“I know you will, John.  I trust you.”  He looked at his watch and folded the papers into an envelope.  “I’ll see Lestrade now and get back as soon as I can.  There’s much to do! 

“Oh, by the way, Lestrade says congratulations to us both and he wants to meet with you for beer and football at the pub. You’re to give him a ring.”  With a feigned look of disgust at John’s laughing face, the detective swept out the door, leaving him alone to put away all the new clothes. The doctor sighed contentedly and got to work.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

________________________________________________________________________

Food shopping was always a necessary chore, so after finding places for everything and admiring the beautiful blue cashmere jumper for a while, John decided to walk to Tesco’s. He was tired of eating take away and wanted to make something they could freeze to tide them over for a few days. Monique had given him some recipes before he’d left France and he decided to try a few out.  Also, he suspected they’d be rather busy for a while tracking down leads and he wanted something wholesome that was easy to microwave.  

While he walked, he rang his omega doctor.  Dr Saunders was thrilled to learn he’d been bonded. Like Dr Albright, she also promised to send him the names of some excellent obstetricians in case he was pregnant and arranged to call in a prescription for pre-natal vitamins.  It never was too soon to take care of himself and he’d be able to pick them up at the chemists on his way home.  

The shop wasn’t too busy and he was able to fill his shopping trolley fairly quickly.  He stopped briefly in the chemist’s aisle and looked at the omega pregnancy tests, choosing one he remembered that had been recommended by some obstetricians he knew.  He had a few weeks to go before he would use it, but it was best to be prepared. 

It wasn’t until he neared home, arms full of groceries, that his senses went on alert and he knew he was being watched again.  His gait hesitated only for a moment but he kept walking and surreptitiously began to scan the surroundings with his empathy.  

Ever since the Hunt, he’d had to use his empathy in this way more and more often and it had become easier to sort out what was dangerous to him and what was not. He was also better at pinpointing the approximate location.  But in this case, he couldn’t get a fix on anything specific.   He did get a sense that the watcher wasn’t exactly dangerous yet but he or she wasn’t completely benign, either. He also picked up a feeling of intense curiosity,  which was different to what he’d sensed before. Was this person watching them both or just targeting John?  The curiosity could mean a reporter,  which was upsetting but not dangerous. There was no way to tell yet as his mind kept sliding away from this person and that worried him. 

He wasn’t far from his front door and he made it inside without any trouble but couldn’t help a sigh of relief at being safely home. However, he could still feel the watchful eyes and wondered if he should try to confront whoever was there.  

As he trudged up the stairs, John made up his mind to tell Sherlock about it before he tried anything so drastic.  Whoever was loitering about seemed content to stay in the shadows and watch for now. Forewarned is forearmed and John would keep his eye out as would Sherlock.  In the meantime, he made tea and begin to prepare some meals for the following week.   Sherlock should be home soon and he wanted to have dinner ready before then.

Sherlock was back much later than anticipated. Apparently, he had chased down what he thought was a promising lead but it had turned out to be just another dead end.  John was tired and had gone to bed by the time the detective arrived home.  It wasn’t until later the next day that he remembered to mention their stalker. 

“Do you think this person is watching both of us?”  Sherlock was surprised.   
   
”It’s possible, but I’m having trouble getting a feel for him. There was a difference this time in that he or she seemed very curious about me. I picked up nothing directly dangerous but as we both know, that could easily change. He could just be a reporter, remember.” 

“Right. Not much we can do about it but just try to keep aware of the situation. I know you can handle yourself, so do whatever you think is necessary. Just stay safe and don’t do anything dangerous.”    

John obeyed his alpha without question and kept a careful look out over the next few weeks.  The watcher made his presence known to the doctor only when he was alone.  There were a few times when John was actually followed on his errands but he could never catch a glimpse of whoever was shadowing him.  It was like his empathy just slid off the other and had nothing to grab onto.  Did this unknown person have strong empathy or could he have guide abilities?  

The last time he’d known that guides had watched him, they were Tower trained and he’d not known they were there until they’d attacked him.  He had been searching for danger with his empathy at the time but had not detected them, so he knew it was possible for a guide to conceal himself from other guides. 

However, there was a difference between this stalker and the Tower guides.  John had actually sensed this one.  Did it mean John was getting better or was the stranger an untrained guide like John?  If so, he apparently was strong enough to be evasive if not completely invisible to John’s empathy.  And it did seem that John and not Sherlock was the focus of his interest at the moment.  John was determined to find out who this person was and what he wanted. 

However, as time passed and he began to gain some familiarity with the watcher’s mental signature, he began to pick up more emotions which caused him significant concern.  John became convinced that the stalker was not a reporter trying to get a scoop. The watcher had started out curious about the doctor and now, as the days passed, John sensed the beginnings of confusion and a building rage.  And it was all directed toward _him_.

 

______________________________________________________________

  

The call came in the mid morning a week or so later.  John woke to the sound of Sherlock’s deep voice speaking into his mobile while he got dressed. “Yes, yes, Lestrade. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”  
  
The detective rang off and poked at John, who grumbled but got up and started getting dressed also. “Do we have time for tea at least?”  His words were muffled as he pulled a jumper over his head, but Sherlock understood him.

”Sorry, not today.  Lestrade said more body parts were found on the shore of the Thames, but they’re on the other side in Battersea.  We need to get there as soon as possible.” 

The taxi ride seemed to last forever and they finally trooped down to the shore of the Thames again near the charming Cringle Dock solid waste transfer station.  Off to their left in the near distance was the enormous and surreal shell of the infamous Battersea Power Station.  The huge stacks loomed over the site and gave the crime scene an ominous feel. 

Lestrade walked over to fill them in with what he had so far. “These weren’t found until just a short time ago, since the waste station here is now closed.  The security guard noticed them and called us as soon as he realised what they were.”  Sherlock ducked under the yellow tape and approached the body parts. 

The DI stopped John briefly with a touch on his sleeve. “You and I need to get together at the pub soon to watch some footie. I’ve missed you and told Sherlock to have you give me a ring.” 

“I will, Greg.  It’s just been busy and I’ve had to spend some time catching up with things. But I’ll ring soon.” John smiled, then turned and made his way toward his sentinel. 

Sherlock motioned covertly for John to approach.  The detective wanted to use his sentinel senses and needed his guide. Pride swelled up in John’s chest as he casually approached Sherlock and crouched next to him, making sure he was close enough that his hand touched Sherlock’s wrist.  

Anderson could be seen at a distance sneering at them.  He’d tried to say something obnoxious to John about being an omega but had the sense to stop when John had glared at him and mentally warned him off.  John was in no mood to deal with the wanker and since Anderson had some sentinel ability, it was laughably easy to affect him with empathy.  Of course Anderson had no idea what had happened to him but had thankfully stayed clear of John and Sherlock.  
  
Scanning along the shoreline, John couldn’t see any foot prints this time. He moved his gaze down to where Sherlock was focussed.  Immediately he felt sick and filled with pity at what he saw. There were two right hands placed in the sand and he could tell they came from elderly women. Their placement seemed totally random, like they’d been tossed out in the rubbish.  The hands did have rings on the fingers and bracelets on what was left of the wrists.  John could see that the cuts that had removed the hands were clean and probably done with a bone saw similar to one Molly might use during an autopsy. 

Looking closer, the flesh had a strange texture and seemed very odd in appearance.  Sherlock gave him a fleeting glance and his expression was tight.  With a sudden jolt of horror and nausea, John realised the hands had actually been successfully plastinated.  

“I can see there are fingerprints on the jewellery.  The killer put them on the hands before he placed them here. He apparently doesn’t care if he leaves fingerprint evidence.  The way the fingers are bent could mean something but somehow I doubt it. It’s likely totally random.”  Sherlock stood and looked down at the hands thoughtfully.  
  
John glanced up at him and rose to stand beside him. Remembering the list of missing twins his alpha had shown him, the doctor asked quietly, “Do these hands belong to the oldest pair of missing twins, Sherlock?”   

The detective nodded. “Yes, unfortunately.”  He turned to Lestrade.  “Get in touch with the family members of Gertrude Woods and Mabel Palais.  I think you’ll find their DNA matches these hands but tell Molly she'll need to pretreat the hands with a sodium salt solution before she can successfully extract DNA.  And I suspect the fingerprints on the jewellery will match the partials found on the trainers.  I don't need to remind you to keep all this out of the papers for now, Lestrade.  Text me when you get the results of the fingerprints. Come along, John.”  
  
The doctor glanced briefly back over his shoulder at the hands lying lonely on the grey shore as they turned to walk past the old waste removal station and up to the road to flag down a taxi.  It was such a sad situation and he felt deep sympathy for the family of the two women. 

Despite the heartbreaking situation, at least the family would have some closure.  It was likely too late now for the other twins but he hoped they could catch the killer before he struck again.

Sherlock’s deep baritone interrupted his gloomy thoughts. ”We will catch him John.  It may take a while, but we’ll get the bastard.” Comforted by his alpha’s declaration, John silently vowed to do everything in his power to help.  

A text from Lestrade later that evening confirmed that the partials from the trainers matched the prints on the jewellery. Sherlock had been correct. The connection between the missing twins was established. The same person had placed the feet and hands on the shore of the Thames and was probably the killer.  John shivered.  Would they find other body parts scattered all across London before they found this madman?  It was entirely likely and the thought was horrifying. 

 

_____________________________________________________ 

As the days continued to pass,  John discovered that following up with distributors on the lists was turning out to be much more time consuming and mind numbing than even Sherlock had anticipated.  Though they’d checked out at least a hundred leads, many on foot but most by phone,  they were coming up with nothing. 

Setting down his mobile after what seemed to be the millionth call that day, John crossed a few more names off his list and sighed in frustration.  “Sherlock, we’re getting nowhere with this.  Too many of these purchasers are just distributors for the chemicals and I’m ending up with more names than I started with once I get their customers’ names!  I think we should narrow down our search. Maybe start by tracing just the purchasers of the silicone rubber.” 

Sherlock shook his head as he continued to type in the latest information into his laptop.  “We can’t, John. We need to get as much data as possible so we can cross-reference the purchasers of these items.  I told you it would take a long time to do this.” 

“Well, why don’t we just focus on the buyers and distributors closest to London, then?  We’ve been trying to trace everyone in the bloody country.  If we don’t find what we’re looking for here,  _then_  branch out. It seems a much more efficient use of our time.”  
  
Sherlock thought about it for a moment, and then nodded.  “That’s an excellent idea, John.  We’ll stop for the night and continue this tomorrow.  Even if we narrow it down to just London, it’s still going to take a long time.”  The detective closed his laptop and stretched.  

Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, John took a deep breath. “Thanks, luv.  We’ve been at this for weeks and I’m just discouraged with the slowness of the process. We both need a break and Greg told me to call him.  I’ll ring him now and arrange to go to the pub later this week. You’re welcome to join us for a pint and some football.” 

John snickered at Sherlock’s look of utter horror and picked up his mobile to ring the detective inspector.   Sherlock disappeared into his room while he and Lestrade arranged a meeting for beer and footie on the telly for later in the week. 

The doctor had just rung off when Sherlock came back into the room, carrying a small but seemingly heavy box. 

“What’s all this?”  John sat back in his chair and frowned as Sherlock set the box down with an audible thump.  It was very heavy indeed and John understood why as his alpha began to remove things from it.  

“I agree that we both need a break so I thought you might like to experiment with these.” Inside were a wide variety of locks and handcuffs, all of which had been expertly cut in half, exposing a cross section of the interior workings for ease of examination. 

Sherlock continued to place the items on the table in front of a bemused John.  “You remember the day after we were picked up by the Tower and Elliot tested you? When you told me you’d been able to push that biro with your empathy? You owe me a demonstration.” 

John opened his mouth to object but Sherlock wagged a finger at him with a half-smile. “I need tangible evidence of such a spectacular claim. And if you can do as you say, it might be a good idea if you study these locks and see if you can manipulate them with your empathy.” He gestured to the contents of the carton.  “I made these years ago so I could learn how to pick locks. You never know when you might need to know how to do this and if you can do it with your mind alone, it would be a useful trick.”   
  
John could see the sense in that but it sounded like it was going to be tough going.  Moving a pen with his empathy hadn’t been tiring but it certainly had taken a lot of concentration and moving bits of metal in a lock might be much more difficult.  

But he did owe Sherlock a demonstration and he wouldn’t know for sure that it would work unless he tried.

“Well, I’ll try the trick with the pen first, before I try anything else. It might have been an accident.”  Sherlock obliged by putting a biro in the centre of the table and sat back.  John cleared his throat and took a deep breath before he directed his empathy at the pen.   
  
His efforts were successful the first time and he had to laugh at the expression on his alpha’s face as the pen rolled across the table and ran into one of the locks.  Apparently Sherlock had not really believed it could be done, but the doctor could now feel his bond mate’s building excitement at the possibilities. 

“John! That was incredible! Can you do it again? Do you think you can lift the pen?”  

John hadn’t really thought of that yet, but he shrugged. “I don’t know but I’ll give it a try and see if it’s possible. Frankly, I didn’t think any of this was really possible at first. It’s such a stupid thing to be able to do. Right out of a fantasy novel and I don’t half trust it.”  
  
The doctor took a deep breath, focused again on the biro, which Sherlock had returned to the centre of the table and visualised it lifting into the air.  It trembled and shuddered, but didn’t move beyond that. This was much harder than just pushing it but it couldn’t be that much different to what he’d already done.   
  
Taking another calming breath, he closed his eyes and tried again.  There was a sharp gasp from Sherlock and he opened his eyes to see the pen hovering in the middle of the table, about six inches in the air. Of course, as soon as he saw it, his surprise caused it to fall back down with a clatter. But he’d done it!  
  
His gaze locked with his alpha’s as they realised what had just happened.  “Oh my god, Sherlock! I can lift things with my mind! How daft is that? I can’t believe I just said that! How is that even possible?” Shock numbed his senses and he was grateful when Sherlock reached out and squeezed his shaking hands tightly.   
  
”We need to keep this between us, I think.  If this became widely known, I hate to think what could happen.  Thank god Mycroft took your words to heart and has removed any surveillance devices from the flat.  I don’t want to lose you to some research facility. I’ve honestly never heard of such a thing being truly possible.”  
  
John calmed a little. ”Elliot claims there are books in the Tower Archives recording these very things and invited me to see them.  I think I should make some time to do that as soon as I can.  I have no idea what the limits are for something like this or what’s even possible.” John was afraid and he didn’t like it. 

“There’s no reason to be frightened, John.” As usual, Sherlock knew exactly what he was thinking and feeling and he tightened his grip on John’s fingers. “There’s nothing supernatural about any of this. I’m certain there’s a way to explain everything.  We just don’t currently have the vocabulary.  

“I don’t know how much real scientific research has been done with empathy but we both know it’s real and therefore can be quantified. We may have to invent the equipment to measure it, but I’m willing to try. 

“So much guide and sentinel lore is the sole purview of the Towers and no outsiders have ever been allowed to delve into their mysteries. I think that’s been done on purpose to keep the public in awe of sentinels but instead has created fear and distrust.  If it were known that guides could do this kind of thing, I shudder to think what the public might do out of fear.  It makes sense that the Towers would keep this ability quiet.”

”This is just absurd!  This shouldn't be possible!  Before Elliot suggested it, I never dreamed it could be done yet here I am doing it.”  
  
Sherlock stared at John for a bit and seemed to come to a decision. “This is totally your call, John, but I think you should practise and try to develop this talent.  It could be an invaluable tool in your arsenal when it comes to our work. I honestly think it could one day save your life or both our lives.  Please consider trying. But again, it’s up to you to decide.” 

John could see how earnest Sherlock was being and how truly he believed what he was saying.  There was a lot of merit in his words and John found himself agreeing. “I’ll try, Sherlock.  I remember a few times when being able to do something like this would have come in handy.  It does take some time and concentration to do, though.”  
  
”Does it make you feel tired, like the time when you made yourself invisible at the train station?”  
  
”No. At least not these two attempts. I’ll have to continue to practise and find out.”  
  
”You’re welcome to borrow my strength if you need it, John.  You don’t ever have to ask.” John returned his sentinel’s smile at that.  

“Well, let me see if I can do anything with these locks. It might be best to start with the most common types.  And it does help to see the insides.  Do you have any diagrams of these contraptions?”  With that, Sherlock and John got to work.

            


	4. Chapter 4

 

  _______________________________________________________

A few days later, John walked to the pub to meet with Lestrade. It was a beautiful night but somewhat chilly and perfect for a brisk walk. He was getting a bit out of shape and needed to start going back to the gym. Marty was going to give him hell and he’d deserve it. But he’d enjoy a few pints with Lestrade first, watch Arsenal defeat Liverpool and try to relax before he’d let Marty thrash him back into shape.

He’d been to a fitting for his new suit that morning. Sherlock had not been able to go with him because he had been out running down some more leads that had, unfortunately, come to nothing, just like all the others. This was the not the first time such a thing had happened, but Sherlock’s brilliance usually cut through all the rubbish fairly quickly and latched onto a clue no one else had noticed. That wasn’t happening this time and John could feel his sentinel’s frustration, as well as his own.

But at least the alterations had gone well and he had to admit he looked quite fine in the new suit. It was a very flattering style for him and he absolutely loved the deep, rich colour of the cloth. Once again, the staff members were very professional and accommodating and he’d been told he could pick up the suit next week.

Then there would be Mummy’s party after that. Frankly, John was dreading it. It might have been more bearable if his Mum or Harry had been invited but neither one had mentioned it when he’d rung, so he guessed they’d not received an invitation. It angered him that they’d been left out of something that was supposed to be a happy family occasion, so he’d finally bitten the bullet and told his Mum that Sherlock had asked him to have a bonding ceremony. He then asked her if she wanted to help him arrange it.

The shriek of joy she’d let out had nearly deafened him and had him laughing out loud. She had gone on for almost half an hour about it before she rang off and then Harry was ringing him about it. She and Clara were incredibly excited and had all sorts of ideas for their bonding ceremony. He promised to leave them the bulk of the organising and listened to the two of them chortle with glee.  He'd been rather surprised at how excited Harry had been abut the ceremony, considering her reaction to his bonding.  But remembering their happiness for him filled him with warmth and he smiled as he walked through the cold evening air.

Greg Lestrade was going to be the first non-family member he would invite to the ceremony. The man had been a stalwart friend to Sherlock for over five years and he deserved to know right away. If he hadn’t been another alpha, John would have asked him to stand up for him at the ceremony. He would ask Forrester to do that instead. John was fairly certain Sherlock would ask Greg to be best man instead of Mycroft but they’d not discussed it yet.

The pub was loud and very crowded, but Lestrade had found a table for the two of them near the telly. He’d already had a pint of John’s favourite ale set out for him.

They had to speak loudly sometimes to be heard, but that was normal. The only time the pub quietened down was when the game came on the telly and then the noise was down to a dull roar. John soaked up the familiar atmosphere, drank his pint and felt the tension and stress bleeding away as he relaxed.

”I’m glad you rang, John. So how have you been? You were away for quite a while and I wasn’t able to reach either one of you.”

John hadn’t realised Lestrade had tried to ring him. ”Did you have another case for Sherlock? You didn’t mention it when I saw you the other day. You know we've been working exclusively on the case with the missing twins. You're still working on the list Sherlock gave you?” John took a sip of his ale, savouring the taste. This was probably going to be the last bit of alcohol he’d allow himself, just in case he had conceived. One or two weren’t going to hurt, but it would be good to cut back until he knew for sure.

“I have been working on the list and it’s going to go much faster now that we’re only looking for purchasers in and around London. No, I’ve not got any new cases for him, at least nothing that would interest him. I was just worried about you when I couldn’t reach you for a month.” He gave John a searching look. “Sherlock was gone and then you’d disappeared and your mobile was switched off. And then there was the Tower out on that Hunt around the same time.”

The DI took a mouthful of beer, swallowed and neatly wiped his mouth with his fingers. “I saw the videos, John. That man looked a lot like you. And now you’re bonded to Sherlock and you smell like an omega instead of the beta you’ve always been before. It didn’t take long to put two and two together to get four. Your makeup at the press conference was Sherlock at his best, am I right?”

John sighed and looked away. He should have guessed that Greg, of all their friends, would be the one to figure it out.

”Just tell me, John. Are you all right? I know you’re tough, but you really took a beating from that Fitzhugh twat.”

John couldn’t help but snort a laugh and be glad he’d not been drinking at that moment. “I’m fine, Greg. Yes, I was the one in the videos, but Sherlock got me away from the Tower and now we’re bonded.”

“Congratulations mate! So you’re really an omega guide? I knew you were special, John, but I’d never have guessed this. I’m glad that Sherlock snagged you. He may be a socially backward git but nobody can call that lad stupid.” Lestrade was grinning at him and John felt his face heat in embarrassment.

“Yes, I’m an omega guide. Just don’t spread it around, all right? I won’t be able to hide the fact I’m an omega any longer, but I don’t want anyone to know I’m a full guide if I can help it. Donovan knows I’m listed as a level four empath so we can just go with that. I know I can guide Sherlock at crime scenes without being obvious if he needs me to do so, but I don’t want it getting around.”

Lestrade made a zipping motion across his mouth. “My lips are sealed, John. No one will hear it from me.” He leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “So tell me how you escaped from those twits in the Tower. I’m dying to know.”

John rolled his eyes in exasperation but couldn’t keep a smile off his face. It was a relief to be able to tell someone else about what had happened to him and Greg listened with great enjoyment as John described his adventures.

When he got to the part where he was captured at the terraced flats, John stopped. “Do you think that I could be prosecuted by the Met for breaking into that flat? I just thought about that.”

Greg drank his beer and chuckled. “Chance would be a fine thing. The flat owner is making a fortune giving tours of the place.”

”You’re joking!” John laughed in amazement. Lestrade shook his head.

“Nah. Maybe you should ask for a cut of the proceeds.” The doctor just continued to giggle hysterically and Lestrade joined in. Once they could talk again, John took up the narrative. When he finished, it was nearly time for the game to start.

”That was amazing, John. It’s a shame you can’t write about it on your blog. I hope you’ll record it somewhere, though.”

”Already done, mate. Just one more thing before the game starts. Sherlock has asked me to have a bonding ceremony with him.” Lestrade’s eyebrows nearly crawled into his fringe at that. John continued before the D.I. could comment. “I wanted to ask if you’d like to attend. We’ve not set a date yet, but it’ll probably be in April or May of next year and at Sherlock’s grandmum’s place in France. You’re the first person outside of family who knows and your attendance would mean a lot to me. You’ve been a good friend to us both and I hope you'll come.”

Lestrade looked gob smacked and John could tell he was touched by the invitation. Greg stammered for a moment but then answered. “Of course I’ll come and with bells on. I’m honoured that you asked, mate. ”

“Thank you, Greg. To friendship, then.” Both raised their glasses and clinked them together.

Lestrade nodded. “To friendship.” They grinned at each other, drank deep and turned to watch the game start. Much to Greg’s disgust, Liverpool lost, just as John had expected. He tried not to gloat too much. Lestrade was a friend, after all.

The DI offered John a ride home after last call, but the doctor waved him off with thanks. It was a nice night and he decided to walk home for the exercise and to help him sober up a bit. John had finally had a chance to relax and forget his troubles for a short time and Lestrade had managed to talk him into drinking an extra ale. He’d enjoyed himself immensely, had got slightly pissed and wanted to keep his happy mood for a while longer.

The temperature had dropped as the evening had progressed and his breath fogged as he ambled along with his hands in his pockets. He warmed up rapidly as he set a brisk pace home. There were only about six blocks to go when the doctor realised he had picked up a shadow.

Quickly, he sent out a wisp of empathy.  John sensed anger and frustration and could tell he was definitely the focus of the person’s attention.  He had the same mental signature of the stalker who had been watching the flat and was now following him. And he wasn’t trying to hide his emotions or presence as he’d done before. 

Irritation evaporated his formerly relaxed mood. Why was this person following him? Had someone hired him to do this? No, it felt too personal.  Why was this happening?  The intrusion was maddening and something inside the doctor just snapped.  Suddenly he was absolutely furious and, without thinking, he spun around and walked aggressively toward the unknown follower. 

The stalker was tall with broad shoulders, wearing a long dark coat and a hoodie pulled up to hide his face. He seemed young but it was dark and the streetlights gave very little illumination. But John didn’t care. He wanted to confront this person and find out what was happening and why.  There were so many things going on in his life that were completely out of his hands and he hated that.  He hated that he felt helpless and he was going to seize control where ever he could do. 

The stranger saw John stalking toward him and stopped in his tracks, looking around as if searching for an escape route. As soon as he realised John was actually coming for him, he turned and ran. Apparently he wasn't prepared for any kind of direct confrontation and had been surprised that the doctor discovered his presence. John’s aggressive advance turned into a sprint to follow.

Longer legs than John’s ate up the distance and the stranger pulled away from him, but John was able to keep him in sight as they both pelted down the street. Breathing fast, heart pumping adrenaline through his body, John experienced an exhilaration he hadn’t felt for quite a while. The chase was what he lived for and what he loved most about working with Sherlock.

He kept his pace steady and the distance between them closed as his more efficient way of running wore down the panicked, longer stride of his stalker. The man looked over his shoulder to see John getting closer and he somehow managed to speed up and put some distance between them again. John was rather impressed. He’d expected the man to fold and give up a while back but he had yet to see any real sign of it.

As they continued to run, John again got steadily closer and closer as the man began to tire. The doctor picked up his pace and nearly had his quarry within his grasp when the man dodged into an alley with an agility that was unexpected. John lost a few seconds as he skidded past the entrance but quickly switched direction and continued to pursue.

The passage was long and very dark. Unfortunately his quarry had disappeared in the few seconds it had taken John to change direction. Slowing down, his breath coming fast but easy, he walked slowly through the centre of the rubbish strewn alley, looking carefully into each niche and corner. The end of the alley was dimly illuminated by the streetlights and he could see no movement anywhere. He listened intently but couldn’t hear anything over his own breathing and racing heartbeat.

Sending out a tendril of empathy detected nothing. It wasn’t possible that the man had disappeared so quickly. He had to be hiding somewhere nearby. Standing still in the middle of the alleyway, the doctor pushed harder with his empathy and this time found a faint whisper of something but couldn’t get a fix on it.

Once again, John damned his lack of training. Whoever this man was, he was somehow hiding himself from John’s empathy by using his own. Was he a guide, too, as John suspected? The doctor started walking forward again, alert for any movement. The stalker had to be concealed somewhere close.

As he neared the end of the alleyway, senses alert and tense, he suddenly saw motion out of the right corner of his eye and quickly turned to face it. The stranger had burst out of a hidden recess and was running straight at him, right arm upraised.

John caught a brief glimpse of his face as the unknown man barrelled hard into him. He seemed to be a beta in his early to mid 30’s, with regular features and heavy  brows and dark eyes, but that was all John saw before they both went down in a tangle of arms and legs onto the dirty cobblestones of the alley.

John cursed when his lower back and an elbow smacked hard into the pavement as he struggled to put his attacker beneath him. He ignored the pain. The man was strong and fought viciously even though it was clear he had little training.

John could tell that his assailant was surprised when he didn’t take the doctor out immediately. He apparently hadn’t expected John to stand up to him since most omegas were not taught to defend themselves. The attacker had no real idea who or what he was dealing with.

They had rolled out of the mouth of the alley and into the street beside a parked vehicle before John gained the advantage. The man made a shocked whooshing sound as the doctor landed all his solid weight on his attacker’s solar plexus with one knee, driving the breath from him. He writhed in pain and gasped in a vain attempt to get some air as John pulled him up by the lapels of his coat and shook him hard. The man’s dark hair and the hoodie flopped forward and hid his most of his features.

John’s rage returned and he roared, “Why are you following me?  Why have you been watching us? What do you want, dammit?” 

Still wheezing but getting his breath back quickly, the man snarled and managed to pull away, twisting hard and making it nearly impossible for John to keep his hold. The man's teeth were bared and he looked positively insane. John involuntarily pulled away from him in a primitive fear response and his grip loosened even more as the man thrashed harder. Before John could prevent it, the stalker managed to get his arms up to strike at the doctor. 

They were still on the ground and John was straddling the stranger’s torso, hands gripping his coat. The doctor had just blocked a blow from the man’s left arm when he felt a sharp burning across his left deltoid muscle. The stranger had been flailing his right arm around in what John had thought was a futile attempt to hit him. Instead, the man had a blade of some sort and was slicing away. 

Whatever he had, it was damn sharp and John released the man’s coat to catch hold of his wrist, smashing his hand against the tyre of a parked car until the assailant let go of the blade with a cry of pain. The doctor heard it hit the tarmac with a bright metallic sound and saw a flash as it bounced under the vehicle. 

John grabbed his attacker by his collar and wrenched them both to their feet but then managed to catch the heel of his shoe on the kerb and stumbled backward. His brief inattention allowed the man to slam a fist like a sledgehammer into his left cheek, sending John down hard. His head clipped the wing of the parked car as he fell between it and the kerb.   

Instead of following up on his advantage, the man took off down the street, running as if the devil was on his heels. John lay half on and half off the pavement, literally seeing stars. By the time he stumbled back up on his feet, the man was gone. John couldn’t find him with his empathy, either, so the stranger was deliberately cloaking himself again, the way the guides had done when they’d hunted him from the gym. This just confirmed what John had suspected.

The watcher was a guide and a fairly strong one, but untrained like John. Why was he watching and following John? What did the man want with him and why attack John? Did he want John out of the way for some reason? Or did he attack because John had followed him and nearly caught him?  He just didn’t know enough. The doctor had not been able to get any information and now he’d managed to get hurt. Sherlock was going to be furious.

Breathing heavily, John bent over and rested his hands against his knees.  His head and cheek ached, but they were only bruised and scraped. His left arm stung like hell though and was beginning to throb. Finally catching his breath, John touched his left shoulder. His right hand came away wet and glistening black in the dim light, as was the sleeve of his coat. The whole arm was soaked in blood and it was dripping from his fingers.  _Fuck_. Sherlock wasn’t just going to be angry. The alpha was going to  ** _kill_**  him.

Grimacing in pain, he searched his pockets for a handkerchief and tried to tie it around his arm one handed without much success. Giving it up as a bad job, John knew the bleeding would stop soon and he wanted to find whatever had cut him before he left the area. It had felt like a razor or something similar and he thanked his lucky stars the man hadn’t been able to reach his throat or he’d be bleeding out in the street.

Searching under the parked motor in the dim light finally turned up the blade. His hair stood on end and his heart sped up. It was a surgeon’s knife with a 22 sized blade. John was very familiar with that kind of scalpel as it was also used in dissection as well as surgery.

Could his stalker be the killer they were looking for? But why had he been watching and following John and not Sherlock? Their theory was the killer was interested in Sherlock. John doubly wished he’d been able to force some answers from the man now.

John picked up the scalpel with a clean part of his bloody handkerchief and placed both items carefully in a pocket of his coat. He looked around at all the buildings and mentally marked where he was before he moved away. He’d not been in this part of town before and wanted to make sure he could make it back in daylight.

Sherlock would want to know about this place. When pursued and panicked, most people ran unthinkingly toward safety. It was possible one of the buildings in the area might house the stranger and John didn’t want to be there while wounded. He wanted out of the area before his stalker regained his courage and came after him with another weapon.

He retreated to a brighter lit and more populated street and hailed a cab. His coat was black so the blood wasn’t easily visible and the bleeding had mostly stopped. While on the way back to Baker Street, he checked his mobile and saw there were a number of missed texts and a missed call, all from Sherlock. No doubt Sherlock had picked up on what he’d been feeling and experiencing during the chase. God, he was in so much trouble. Even if he could deliver the address, birth date and phone number of the murderer, Sherlock would probably still kill him afterward.

His alpha was standing impatiently at the entrance to the flat as the cab pulled up. His face was a frozen mask and John’s heart sank. The doctor kept his wounded side away from Sherlock as long as he could, but the taxi had no sooner driven off than Sherlock was down the stairs and standing in front of him. The man was a sentinel and there was no point in trying to hide anything.

He took John’s face in his hands and saw the swelling and scrapes from the chase and struggle. ”I smell blood! A lot of blood! What the hell have you been doing? Are you all right?”

”I’m fine, luv. Let’s just get inside. I had an encounter with our stalker and he cut me. But it’s fine. Come on, I’m tired.”

Sherlock followed the omega inside, lips tight with anger and disapproval. Before he did anything else, John handed the carefully wrapped scalpel to Sherlock.

“This is what he used to cut me. There may be prints on this so I was careful not to touch it.” The alpha nodded soberly and set it cautiously down on the table and followed John, who was heading for the loo where their first aid kit was kept.

John groaned painfully as he removed his coat and shirt. Both left sleeves were soaked with blood and he threw the clothes into the bath to rinse out later. As Sherlock watched, he examined himself in the mirror. The arm was smeared with blood and there were multiple gashes of varying depths, most of which were still weeping blood sluggishly. Some of the wounds were very deep, the blade having sliced far into the muscle but not so deep as to cause nerve damage thankfully. He was lucky. The wounds would have to be properly irrigated and sutured, though.

The doctor felt Sherlock’s concern and anger but the sentinel didn’t say anything to John as he picked up the kit along with some flannels and towels and walked into the kitchen.

“Come along, John. We might as well get you stitched up and then you can explain yourself.”

John sighed and his shoulders slumped. He was in so much trouble.

He sat at the table and presented his arm for treatment. Sherlock efficiently cleaned and numbed the wounds, then began to neatly stitch them up.

”Good thing you’ve had a tetanus jab recently.” The alpha slathered on a considerable amount of antibiotic ointment and finally wrapped the gashes up tightly. John moved his arm gingerly and found everything worked fine. He would have to be careful for a week or so but then he’d be right as rain.  

John got up to make tea for them both, trying to put off this discussion as long as possible. But it was no use.  

Sherlock was angry, withdrawn and distant as he removed a chemical cold pack from the first aid kit and handed it to the doctor. The worst part was he’d managed to somehow emotionally shut himself away from John. The doctor couldn’t access his sentinel’s emotions without pushing. He had no idea that Sherlock knew how to do that and it hurt worse than the wounds.

The alpha looked stricken, shaking his head in bewilderment as they sat at the table so John could put the cold pack on his face. “John, I don’t understand. This is not like you at all. What were you thinking? I’d very much like an explanation as to why you thought you could pursue a dangerous stranger in the middle of the night, alone, without any backup. You’re not usually so impulsive.”

John sighed miserably. “I don’t honestly know why. Well, I do know. I was angry. I sensed him following me about six blocks from here and something came over me.”

John looked straight into his alpha’s eyes. “I’m so tired of everything that’s going on, Sherlock. The press conference, your mother’s party, the Tribunal. Everything is uncertain and up in the air right now. I feel so out of control and I just wanted to do something to take control back. It infuriated me not knowing who this person was or why he was following me. I never dreamed he would attack me.”

”Well, you didn’t find any of those things out, did you? But he did attack you and you go hurt.” John lowered his head and nodded, mortified.

“You’re a part of me now, John. Just as I’m a part of you. You don’t put yourself at risk without me there, unless there’s absolutely no choice.

“You’ve lectured me enough about it even before we were bonded. Don’t you know it would literally kill me if anything were to happen to you?” John had to look up at Sherlock at that. His alpha had opened himself up again and John saw and felt Sherlock’s concern, love and gut-wrenching fear for him.

Ashamed, he nodded again. ”I promise, Sherlock. I won’t do anything so reckless again.”

Sherlock stood, came around the table and pulled John up to him in a tight, almost frantic embrace. “Don’t forget, either, that you’re likely carrying our child. If that's true, it’s not just the two of us any longer. Please, John. Please remember that.”

Even more dismayed by his actions, John clung to Sherlock and buried his face in his alpha’s shoulder. How could he have forgotten that? instinctively, he put a hand  on his abdomen and spread his fingers in a caress, as if asking their child for forgiveness. Sherlock put his hand over John’s and linked their fingers as they stood there for a while, soaking up each other’s simple presence.

“I’m so sorry, Sherlock,” John whispered. He knew he wasn’t exactly forgiven but he’d do anything to take away the stricken look he’d put on his bond mate’s face.

Sherlock kissed his hair and heaved a sigh of his own. “I know you are. So am I. Come on, it's late. Let’s go to bed.”

 

 

 

______________________________________________________________

John woke slowly the next morning and automatically reached out for Sherlock, but the sheets beside him were cold. However, he could feel Sherlock along their emotional bond again. He still wasn’t forgiven but things would eventually return to normal. It was more than he could honestly ask for and he felt nothing but relief.

It was much later than he usually got up but considering the late night he’d had combined with moderate blood loss from the cut he’d sustained, it wasn’t too surprising. For a few minutes John considered going back to sleep.

But there were things to do so he needed to get up.  He groaned in pain as he sat up stiffly. Marty was indeed going to kick his arse and he was going to let him. Muscles that he’d not used for a while vehemently protested their movement and his face and arm ached abominably. A wave of tiredness hit him and he rested with his head in his hands for a few moments, listing all the things he’d done wrong last night.

But there was nothing for it. He couldn’t change a thing and had promised not to put himself in danger like that again. It was all he could do at the moment. If Sherlock could pull some prints off that scalpel some good might have come from his mad dash across London. Breathing deeply, he stood and went to prepared himself for the day.

Some paracetemol, judicious stretching and a hot shower helped ease the stiffness and he felt almost human, though still tired, when he entered the kitchen. The kettle was hot so he made tea and toast and brought his breakfast into the adjoining room. Sherlock was at the table, dusting the scalpel for prints.

John shuffled over to him and looked over his shoulder. “Any joy?”

Sherlock nodded absently as he carefully transferred a print to a surface he had prepared to receive it. “I’ve got some partial prints here so that’s something. I’ll bring these to Lestrade and see if they can find a match.” The sentinel straightened up and carefully packaged the fingerprints for transport. He then pulled out a map of London and spread it on the table in front of John where he sat with his breakfast.

”Now let’s follow the path your mysterious stalker took you along and see if we can find something interesting.”

John showed him where he first noticed the stalker and the subsequent route they’d taken during the chase. It was almost a straight line into a large district of 19th century warehouses not far from the Thames that were in the very slow process of being restored.

Many had been purchased right before the recession and were simply sitting empty. Some had been abandoned while being restored or gutted. It wasn’t an ideal place to search and there were many dilapidated buildings in that area. John sighed and envisioned a lot of leg work in his future.

Later that morning Sherlock left to take the partials to Lestrade while John took a taxi back to the neighbourhood he’d been in the night before. He had strict instructions to simply walk the local streets and mark down likely places to examine more closely later.

He easily found the alley mouth where he’d encountered the stranger. Taking a deep breath John looked around trying to figure out where he should begin his search.

Most of the buildings on the street were much older than the warehouses beyond them. Some looked to be 17th or 18th century structures, but he couldn’t be sure. They all looked small, old and crooked. Most were unoccupied, though there were a few that housed some small businesses like solicitor’s offices. The area was clearly on the edge of gentrification and he could see that scaffolding had been set up around some of the more charming buildings.

Not sure what exactly he was looking for, he glanced down at the pavement and street again where he’d struggled with the attacker. Thankfully the street wasn’t very well travelled and a few of the cars from last night were still parked.

He could see where he’d bled onto the tarmac and pavement but then he noticed additional blood spatters in the middle of the street and a right handprint in blood on the bonnet of a car opposite where he was standing. Apparently, the mysterious stranger had managed to cut himself on the extremely sharp scalpel blade while he was stabbing John. Quickly he scanned up and down the pavement and building facades for more blood traces but found nothing.

Thankfully, John had come prepared to take samples. Putting on latex gloves, he got out a clean evidence bag and managed to get some dried blood off the bonnet of the car. He then pulled out his mobile and dialled Sherlock. The sentinel would have to come and see if the could track any more blood and he needed to do it soon before it began to rain again.

When the detective answered, John explained what he had found. “You might want to schedule to get a DNA test on the blood on the scalpel as well as the blood I found when I get it to you. We’ll have some more information on him, at least. Any luck with the prints?”

”Lestrade is running them now but because they’re only partials, it could take a few hours. How are things on your end? Any of the buildings look like possible hide-a-ways for our mysterious stalker?” John’s heart lifted at Sherlock’s amused tone. Things were getting back to normal, thank goodness.

”I’ve not had much chance to look around yet. Will you come here and see if you can find a blood trail? I can’t see anything but with your abilities, if he’s left a trail, you can find it.” John gave him the street address.

”That’s an excellent idea. I’ll be there in about half an hour. Use the time to look around if you can. I’ll see you shortly.” John rang off as he scanned the surroundings again. His empathy picked up nothing unusual and no one seemed to have noticed him loitering about, but if this stranger was a guide as he believed, John might not be able to detect him in time. That was a sobering thought, especially as the man had proven to be willing to injure him.

John began to walk up and down the street, looking into alleyways and noting the kinds of buildings with more attention. He didn’t want to walk around the opposite side of the street until Sherlock arrived in the fear of possibly disturbing any evidence.

Once more, he’d be acting officially as a guide to his sentinel. This would likely be more complicated than what he’d just done at the shore of the Thames. There would be a lot more going on and a variety of stimuli that could potentially distract and zone his sentinel.

John tried to remember what Forrester used to do when she worked with Henderson. It seemed to be about tone of voice and getting his sentinel to focus on specific senses and tone down others to keep him from getting distracted. At the same time, he wouldn’t want Sherlock to focus too much on one sense for fear of zoning, but he was confident that wouldn’t happen.

It would be nice to be able to take Elliot up on his offer to give him some training. John felt a responsibility to Sherlock to be the best guide he could possibly be to him. Sherlock was one of the most talented alpha sentinels of his generation and he deserved to have a guide to match him.

With help and training, John was sure he could be that calibre of guide. Forrester had tried to help but she had not had much training either. Thoughts of his former commander’s guide reminded him that he needed to contact her and catch her up on what had happened and to invite her to their bonding ceremony. John knew she kept in touch with Marty who no doubt had told her John was back in London, but he needed to ring her personally and soon.

By the time he wandered back to where he’d started, a taxi was pulling up and Sherlock was beside him. John pointed out the blood spatters and Sherlock tensed and trembled like a hunting dog on point as he began to focus his senses on the blood. John wrapped his hand loosely around Sherlock’s wrist but didn’t speak at first. He wanted to see what Sherlock was going to do and he would try to adapt to his movements.

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment and John could see his nostrils quivering. He seemed disturbed at first but then calmed and opened his eyes. “I can smell your blood John. It’s upsetting but I can also smell his blood.” They advanced across the street where the bloody hand print was located. “I’d like to use a combination of sight and scent to try to track this man.” He turned to look down at John, who still held his wrist lightly, and grinned at him.

“Let’s see what we can find.” Sherlock scanned the area, eyes sharp and alert.

It was an amazing experience to guide his sentinel through the streets and alleys, following a microscopic and increasingly faint blood trail that took them deeper and deeper into the warehouse district. He only needed to nudge Sherlock every so often when he began to focus too much on one of his senses. His sentinel was a dream to guide and John was grateful his own lack of training wasn’t a handicap in this case. He vowed that he would learn to do better as soon as he could.

The buildings became more and more decrepit the closer they got to the river. The fences surrounding them were damaged, pavements were weed infested and the windows boarded up or broken. Chunks of brick were missing from many of the façades. It was clear some of the buildings were being used by the homeless, but not the homeless that Sherlock knew. Something felt off and dangerous about this area and it made John nervous. Sherlock seemed to be picking up on it as well.

They finally reached the end of the trail at the edge of an alley leading out to another dreary and abandoned block of red brick warehouses, all nearly identical to the others in the area. They cast about for a while, looking for more evidence but came up with nothing else. They were within two blocks of the Thames and at the far western edge of the district.

At Sherlock’s urging, John sent out his empathy to search the surrounding area. Using Sherlock as an anchor, he could sweep a larger area but found nothing unusual. There were very few people about and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The area had a bad feel to it though, but there was nothing specific that John could pin down to explain it. He just didn’t like the area and wanted to leave.

Sherlock continued to search for a few minutes more but finally sighed in defeat. “I think we’ve got as much as we can now and it’s given us  more information about our stalker.  He probably works or lives in one of these buildings. I would very much like to find him and discover why he's following you and watching our flat.”

They had a call from Lestrade later that evening. The partial prints on the scalpel matched the ones found on the shoes and on the jewellery on the hands. John’s blood chilled. He had, alone, unarmed and half pissed, confronted a serial killer.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter update. More soon!

John sat on the sofa, biro and paper at hand.   Sherlock paced back and forth in front of the doctor. He was clearly disturbed at the discovery that John had been followed and injured by the same man who was killing twins and plastinating their remains.  John was equally as uneasy at having encountered a serial killer.  The doctor’s arm throbbed in pain, reminding him of his foolishness as he took notes and listened to his alpha brainstorm. 

“I think I understand now why the killer started watching the flat. I suspect that he was frustrated we weren’t making any progress on the case and possibly wanted to find a way to draw my attention to him again.  Then he ended up switching his attention to you.  But why he would do that?”  The detective stopped pacing and sat on the coffee table facing the doctor. 

Shaking his head, John responded. “Well, there just isn’t enough information to give a definitive answer about anything and all we can really do is speculate.  I told you already I think he’s an untrained guide and a fairly strong one. You’ve established that he seems to want something from you, even if it’s just your attention.  But I have a feeling it’s a lot more than that.”  
  
Sherlock frowned. “What do you mean?” 

John sighed. “It’s just an irrational feeling but think back to the beginning of all this.  When he first put those feet by the river for you to find, you were an unbonded alpha sentinel, acknowledged by London Sentinel Tower as one of the most talented of your generation. You told me that you thought the killer was trying to get your attention and that you were pretty sure he was in the crowd watching you that day.  

“Now, if he is a guide as I believe, it may be that he wanted to get your attention for reasons other than to show off his talents to you or dare you to catch him. I think he fantasises that he will eventually bond with you and be your guide.” Sherlock’s frown deepened as he considered John’s words. 

The doctor continued.  “Yes, I know it sounds far fetched, but something tells me I’m right.  He was there watching us the first night we returned. We had disappeared for an entire month after the feet were found. I think he was wondering where you were and came out of hiding to search for you because he knew you weren’t hunting for him like he’d expected. 

“When I first began to sense him out there, after the first few times, I realised that he was suddenly curious about me and who I was. If he read my blog he knew we were flatmates, but now we’re much more and he probably began to recognise that.    

“As more time passed, I started to sense that he was confused and then he became extremely angry. And it was very clear he was angry at  _me_.  The only thing I can think of was that he somehow discovered that you and I are now bonded as alpha and omega.”  
  
Sherlock nodded. “He could have scented that easily if he’d just walked by us. And we’d have no way to know who he was at the time.”  
  
”Yes, it’s very easy for anyone to tell that now. I think he’s offended that we’re bonded and furious at me for taking you off the market. 

“By placing the successfully plastinated hands out on the river for you to find, he’s announcing to you that he’s now ready to take you on. And in his little fantasy world, you would come find him, bond with him and live happily ever after as sentinel detective and guide serial killer.  But unfortunately for his plans, I’m an enormous spanner in the works and he’s now really cheesed off because you’re no longer free to bond. 

“I suspect that he wants to get rid of me so you’ll be able to bond with him and he’s trying to find the best way to do that without you knowing. It’s clear that he’s very methodical and patient and he’s planning something. By following me, I think he was trying to try to establish a pattern to my movements so he could arrange an “accident” more easily.  

“But since I’m a lowly omega, he clearly wasn’t expecting me to even detect his surveillance, let alone confront him that night. And he especially wasn’t prepared for me to nearly best him in a physical confrontation.  He seemed very surprised when he couldn’t subdue me right away. Our stalker made a huge mistake by underestimating me and now I think he’s running scared. Or if not scared, I’ve upset all his plans and he’s got to start from scratch. 

“If he had been meaning to truly hunt and kill me that night, he would probably have brought something other than a scalpel.  He may have just had the scalpel in his coat pocket without realising it until I cornered him. 

“A scalpel, even a large one, is meant to make careful, deliberate cuts and isn’t designed to stab. The blade is fragile and can be easily snapped off.  Also the handle isn’t easy to hold in a fist and the hand holding it will slip and slice the palm of the user if used in a stabbing motion.  That’s exactly what happened to our killer. 

“Of course a scalpel can kill, but he tried to stab me with it rather than slash. That indicated to me a panicked response on his part. He was not expecting me to chase him, let alone catch him up.    It wasn’t until I had him down on the ground that he used it to slice at my arm and he hit me only by blind luck.”  The wound in question throbbed again as John touched it to illustrate his point.  

Sherlock steepled his fingers, stood and began to pace again, clearly troubled.  “I believe you may be right, John.  If you were anyone else, I’d be terrified for you right now. Actually, I’m still terrified.  He is clearly willing to kill and he’s targeted you.  However, now that he’s actually encountered you, he may think twice about his methods.”  

He sat again in front of John, took the doctor’s hands in his and squeezed gently. “In the meanwhile, you’ve got to promise me you’ll let me know immediately if you encounter him again, even empathically. I know you can take care of yourself and my fear is probably irrational, but I’m still concerned.  Promise me you’ll be careful, John.”  
  
”You know I will, Sherlock.  I promise.” It seemed to satisfy John’s alpha and they began to plan their moves for the next few days.  Things were slowly coming together and John hoped an ending was in sight for this case.  It couldn’t come soon enough for him. 

Sherlock summed up their situation.  “Despite all the physical evidence we have, we actually have got very little that we can use.  The killer’s prints aren’t on file so we’ve got nothing there.  Our theory that he’s plastinating some of his victims has turned out to be correct, but we’ve had no luck tracing likely purchasers of the chemicals, even with help from Lestrade. You did catch a brief glimpse of him so we have a very basic sketch. 

“But his encounter with you was an enormous mistake because now we know that he must have a lair in the warehouse district somewhere. We now can investigate the area and chances are good that we’ll find traces of his activity.  So we need to start searching.” 

 

 

 _____________________________________________________________

 

It was decided that they would begin an examination of the dozen warehouses closest to the river in the hopes of finding any evidence of the killer or his location. Mycroft was willing to research the names of the corporate and individual owners of the properties while Sherlock and John went literally door to door, searching for any evidence of occupation in the supposedly abandoned warehouses. If any of the warehouses showed signs of being in use, they would investigate further. 

Sherlock wanted to draw a straight line from where John had pursued the killer and investigate the ones closest to the river.  The line intersected four warehouses so they’d start with them.   

John was rather hesitant to go. The area was sparsely populated, mostly with homeless people and was a blind spot to CCTV.  They had checked with Mycroft and every camera that had ever been put up in the area had been destroyed within 24 hours. The city had given up trying to keep surveillance on the area. 

Clearly, the place was neglected and derelict. When they’d searched the area before, John felt on edge the closer they got to the river.  Something was down there that set off his warning signals. So before they left the flat, he holstered the SIG-Sauer to the back of his belt.   

Sherlock’s nostrils flared as he walked into the living room.  “I smell gun oil.  You’ve got your weapon with you. Do you really think it’s necessary?” 

“In the immortal words of Han Solo, I have a bad feeling about this,” and laughed at Sherlock’s predictably bewildered expression. 

“If you think it’s necessary, I’ll bow to your judgment, John. Pop culture references are not necessary.”  John shook his head in amusement as they left the flat. 

They took a taxi to the area but the driver refused to take them any closer than five streets from the river.  As they got out of the cab, the driver reached out from the window and put a hand on John’s sleeve. “This area is dangerous, son.  You need to be careful.  There are criminals and dangerous men that lurk down there.” Touched by the driver’s clear concern, John thanked him and watched the man drive hurriedly away.  

The doctor saw no one as they walked toward the river, though he sensed they were being watched closely.  Printed plastic “For Sale or Rent” signs could be seen tied to the exterior of the buildings, flapping in a cold wind that made Sherlock’s nose and cheeks burn bright red.  Otherwise, there was an eerie quiet to the place and John felt uneasy surrounded by walls of dark red brick that loomed and towered over them on all sides, shutting out the sun and casting long shadows everywhere.  The doctor shivered with more than cold, though Sherlock seemed unaffected.  

The first warehouse they wanted to inspect was on the corner of two intersecting streets about one from the Thames.  All the windows on the lower storeys were boarded up and the rest were cracked or broken.  Pigeons could be seen perched on the windowsills of the upper floors looking down on them curiously.  Like most of the other buildings, the fence surrounding the former car park of the property was full of holes and the gate was hanging off its hinges. Remnants of barbed wire hung in rusted strands from the top of the fence. The pavement surrounding the building was choked with weeds, broken glass and all kinds of rubbish that John didn’t want to look at too closely.     

They began to examine the building starting at the doors and loading bay. All the doors were secured with locks John was certain would take Sherlock about 30 seconds to pick. But the sentinel examined the doors and ground beneath them and then moved to the loading bay, where he did the same. 

Placing his hand against the door of the loading bay, he called to John. “I’m going to try to search the building with my ears and nose and I need you to guide me.”  He held out his gloved hand and John grasped it in his as Sherlock pulled him close, closed his eyes and began the procedure for grounding himself on John’s scent and heartbeat.  The doctor’s hand encircled his sentinel’s wrist as he felt Sherlock begin to extend his sense of hearing into the building.  

When he felt Sherlock begin to get locked into something for too long, he would shift and make a slight noise to distract, or tighten his grip on the detective to draw his attention to another sense so he wouldn’t zone.  All John could hear was the sound of the wind, the skittering of the rubbish blowing around and the cooing of the pigeons as they stood there for what seemed like hours.  

Finally, Sherlock sighed and relaxed. John looked up at him but remained silent as the sentinel slowly came back to himself. 

He hugged John tight for a moment and stepped back.  His face was tight with disappointment. “I couldn’t hear anything other than rats in the walls and those damn pigeons.”  He looked up in distaste at the birds flying in and out of the windows. “They’re nothing but vermin and their droppings can carry histoplasmosis. I don’t want you going anywhere near them.”  

Sherlock began to walk away, John following close behind. “The water and electricity are cut off in this building as well. No point in trying to get inside.  Let’s try the next.”  
  
The gate for this building was more intact but it took only a moment for Sherlock to pick the lock and they were in.   They followed basically the same procedure as before and turned up nothing but more rats and pigeons. 

The afternoon was beginning to wane when they approached the third warehouse. Circling the building, John noted it was different to the others. It was somewhat smaller and older.  Also, more wood had been used in its construction than the others, though it was still mainly red brick.  It was even more dilapidated and bits of fallen brick littered the ground along with the usual rubbish.  The nicest thing about it was the unobstructed view of the Thames.     

As they came around the back of the building, John’s empathy started to pick up a suggestion of possible danger. He had visual confirmation of the potential threat when he caught sight of a small group of men lurking around the steps of a building further down the street. They looked cold, hungry and rather intimidating.  

Those men could be perfectly harmless and nothing to worry about, but John promised himself he would keep an eye on them as they examined the building.  This place would be the last one they would have time for and still be able to make it back to more heavily travelled streets before dark. 

Sherlock knelt at the gate and inspected the entrance to the old car park.  “There are recent tyre tracks going in and out of here. See how the weeds are flattened?” 

The sentinel stood and walked toward the loading bay. John couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary but Sherlock certainly could.  “I can see where a vehicle, possibly a van, backed up here.  Here are foot prints of at least two individuals and scratches  and splinters on the surface of the bay where crates have been moved.” 

He stopped and listened intently for a moment.  “This building has electricity and water service.  I can’t hear any people inside at the moment.”  He looked up at the nearest window, which was made of frosted wire glass but there were numerous holes and cracks in it.  

“John, I want to climb up to that window and look inside when I use my senses. Do you think you can follow me up and guide me?” 

Brow furrowed, John scanned the wall. There was a rusted skip to the right of the loading bay and a 3 inch decorative protrusion of brick running about five feet below the window, which was about 15 feet from the ground.  
  
”Under normal conditions, I’d have no trouble following you up that wall, Sherlock, but with my arm buggered, I don’t think I can do it.  I can stand on the edge of the skip and hold onto your ankle for touch. Do you think that will work?”  
  
Sherlock considered a moment.  “I may not be able to extend my senses as far as I’d like but that will have to do.” With that, the detective hopped agilely up on the dock and stepped over to the edge of the skip. John followed, being careful not to stress his injured arm. 

Much of the mortar between the bricks had deteriorated and the wall was a climber’s dream. Sherlock pulled himself up the rough brick façade using the strength of his fingers and toes and made it easily to the ledge, where he positioned himself neatly in front of one of the larger breaks in the glass. 

Balancing precariously on the edge of the skip and holding onto the wall with his bad arm, John reached up and touched Sherlock’s leg and ankle in order to ground and guide his sentinel. Thankfully, Sherlock didn’t need much grounding in this case.

”I can only see a huge empty space but there are areas that have been partitioned off into what appear to be offices.”  He took a deep breath, held it and released it slowly. His voice excited, he looked down at the doctor. “I smell ketones, John.  Someone is using acetone in quantity here.” 

John gaped in delighted surprise. Had they actually found the lair of the killer already?  After all the slogging through deadly boring paperwork for so long, had they finally hit pay dirt?  It almost seemed too easy.  

He watched as Sherlock took another deep breath through his nose and he frowned. He was still for a moment and then turned to look down at the omega. “We need to leave now, John. I’ll explain in a moment.”  

Without question, John turned quickly and made his way to the loading bay and back down to the pavement. Sherlock joined him and they walked fast to the gate. “I smelled iodine and sulphuric acid as well as some other compounds.  We’ve stumbled on a meth lab and need to leave the area now.”  
  
But they didn't move quickly enough.  Both he and Sherlock had been so caught up in the search that they’d not paid enough attention to the surrounding area.  Two men were coming around the corner across the street and began to make their way toward them.  John’s empathy confirmed what his eyes were telling him. These men meant them serious harm. John glanced quickly over at the group of homeless men and saw that they were blocking the street but at least not making any active move toward them. He wondered if they had been lookouts and had notified the owners of the meth lab of John and Sherlock’s trespass. 

Quietly, the detective whispered to John. “There are another two men coming up behind us.  Be ready to use your weapon if necessary. I’ll try to diffuse the situation if possible.”  The sentinel took a step forward and held his hands out to his side.

Changing his tones to make himself sound like an effete upper-class twit, Sherlock called out to them. “Good afternoon, gentlemen.  I apologise if we were trespassing.  We were supposed to meet Kelly, our estate agent here and thought we might find her inside the building.” He glanced at John and asked dubiously, in a ridiculous voice, “This is the proper address, isn’t it?”  

He turned back to the now frowning men and gave them his most harmless smile.  “Isn’t this 1503 River Road? Did I get it wrong again?”  He turned back to John and looked at him beseechingly. 

John caught on immediately.  Harshly, he said, “You’re always mixing up the bloody numbers. It’s supposed to be 1053 River Road! Five streets over! No wonder Kelly isn’t here.  How many times have I told you to let me take the messages, dammit!”   

John watched as the men look at each other with raised brows, not expecting to find themselves in the middle of a domestic.  It seemed Sherlock’s improvised plan was working but he wouldn’t relax until they were out of the area. 

Sherlock gave him an expression of hurt that was almost comical. “I’m sorry, luv.  I should have done.  We’ll go and meet her now, shall we?”  Nodding to the startled men, they began to walk away.  The men actually let them go for about five steps up the street. 

Then there was a shout from the other two men behind them.  “Oi! Don’t let ‘em go!  I recognise that fuckin’ toff!  That’s Sherlock bloody Holmes!” 

The bigger of the two confronting them produced a gun and shouted, “Don’t move!” 

The alpha and omega raised their hands and stood as still as possible.  The man gestured with the weapon.  “Now walk back that way and don’t try anything or I’ll shoot.” 


	6. Chapter 6

Stiffly, John and Sherlock turned back toward the gate and began to walk forward slowly.  The other men ran up to join the first two and all four drug dealers escorted the sentinel and guide back to the building.  There was a padlocked door to the left of the loading bay. To get to it, they had to go down three steps into a concrete stairwell to open it.  
  
The man with the gun, clearly in charge of the meth operation, fished a key out of his pocket and tossed it to one of his henchmen.  “Open the door. I don’t want to do this outside.”  

The man caught the key and started down the stairs. Everyone’s attention was momentarily on him and it was then that Sherlock struck.  

The detective slammed his left forearm down hard on the gunman’s wrist.  John thought he heard the arm break but he wasn’t sure because he had spun around and smashed the heel of his right hand into the face of the man behind him. The doctor definitely felt bones break and blood spurted as his man dropped like a felled tree, unconscious.

Looking for the gun, he spotted it just as the other two at the stairwell did and all three dived for it. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sherlock struggling with the leader, who was shrieking curses loudly.   
  
John managed to get hold of the gun but the third man got hold of John, wrapping his arms around his waist.  John bent and twisted, using his elbows to good effect.  However, he’d forgotten about his arm and gasped in pain as he felt sutures tear loose in his shoulder as he struck his attacker.  The pain was intense and his hold on the gun briefly loosened. That was all it took for the third man to be able to knock it away. It bounced and fell down the stairwell. The man let go of John and ran for the gun while the fourth man swung at John with a steel pipe he’d managed to find somewhere.  

John ducked and drove his right fist into the man’s gut as he overextended his swing.  The man dropped the pipe as he grabbed his stomach and fell to his knees. John turned to follow the man who was after the gun rather than follow up with a killing blow on the fourth man.  
  
The third dealer had jumped down the stairs and grabbed the gun. He stumbled on the stairs in his eagerness, but managed to get the gun up before John kicked him viciously in the face.  The gun dropped on the top stair while the drug dealer fell back. He landed with a muted thud as his head smacked into the cement wall at the bottom of the stairwell.  John bent to pick up the weapon when he heard Sherlock shout. 

Instinctively, he ducked to the side and the pipe hit him across the shoulders instead of the head.  John fell forward on his face on the top step as the gun tumbled down the stairs to land beside the unconscious meth dealer.  Grit and things he didn’t want to think about ground into his face as he pushed himself up and onto his back, his wounded shoulder screaming at him.  
  
The third man was getting ready to swing with the pipe again when Sherlock barrelled into him and the pipe went flying.  Both of them went down in a tangle as John got shakily to his feet. His back and shoulder hurt like hell but what he saw in front of him stunned him and he shouted out a warning.   

Everything began to move in slow motion. He couldn’t move fast enough to reach the gun at his back before he saw the leader pick up the pipe in one hand and swing with all his strength at Sherlock’s head.  To his horror, it connected hard and his alpha rolled onto his back and went hideously limp.  

Time resumed its normal flow as he aimed his weapon and fired two bullets into the knees and then a third through the shoulder of the meth dealer.  The pipe clattered loudly in the silence created by the sharp pop of the gunshots.  The man went down, eyes wide with shock and pain.  All four men were now out or incapacitated.  
  
John quickly retrieved the other gun at the bottom of the stairwell and returned his own weapon to its holster.  Then the whole world narrowed down to his sentinel and he staggered as fast as he could to Sherlock, falling to his knees beside him. Pulling out his mobile, he dialled 999, hands actually shaking in total, near incapacitating fear. Sherlock was still, pale as a corpse and there was a growing puddle of blood beneath his head. 

He began to check vitals as he spoke into the mobile, requesting ambulances and police.  Hanging up on the operator, he threw down the phone and stripped off his coat and scarf and draped the coat over Sherlock.  
  
His bond mate’s head had taken an incredibly hard blow and the pipe had torn the scalp badly.  John pressed his scarf to the wound, trying hard not to hyperventilate as he saw how much blood was pouring out of it and had already spilled onto the ground.  There could be a skull fracture or brain damage or….  He tried not to think about it. 

Sherlock was out cold and John lifted the lids of his eyes to look at pupil reactivity.  To his horror, the right pupil reacted sluggishly.  John sat back, trying not to panic and had to stop himself from chanting “oh god oh god” over and over. This did not necessarily mean brain damage.  He had to stay positive.  All he could do now was keep Sherlock warm, try to stem the blood flow and wait for help. 

Off in the distance he heard the wail of sirens.  He glanced over his shoulder to where the homeless men had been hovering but all of them were long gone.  Picking up the mobile again, he managed to dial Lestrade one handed. 

Once the DI answered, John interrupted, trying hard to control his voice and not having much success.  “Greg.  Sherlock and I stumbled over a meth lab and the dealers tried to kill us.  Sherlock’s been hurt. Ambulances and police are on their way. They’ve got a full scale lab in there, Greg.  You’ll need to contact the right people so you can remove the chemicals safely.  This place is a time bomb waiting to blow.”  The doctor ran out of breath at that point and Lestrade could finally say something. 

“I’m notifying the right people and I’ll meet you at St Thomas’.  Just stay calm, John. He’ll be all right.” John could hear fumbling as Lestrade put on his coat and scarf. “Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?” The sound of the lift's bell could be heard over the mobile as Lestrade left the building. John dithered but decided to let Lestrade get off the phone.  The sirens were getting close. 

“No, that’s fine, Greg.  They’re almost here and I’ll need to talk to the paramedics when they arrive.  See you at hospital. And thanks, Greg.”  
  
”You’re welcome, mate. You’d do the same for me. See you soon.”  With that, he rang off and John focussed on Sherlock again. The sentinel’s eyelids were twitching and then opened. John leaned forward excitedly, but the right pupil was still sluggish. 

“John? Are you there? What happened? My head hurts. Everything’s blurry.”  Sherlock’s words were slurred, which was not good either.  

John spoke quietly to Sherlock, stroking the side of his face before noticing it was covered with blood. His own wound had opened up and was bleeding again, but he ignored it.  “You were hit on the head, luv.  You’ve got a concussion and you’re going to be fine.  Just relax and we’ll get you to hospital soon. Don’t go to sleep, okay?”   
  
Sherlock closed his eyes and tried to nod, but, judging by his pained expression, it hurt to move his head.  A panicked look came over him suddenly that John immediately recognised.  Quickly but carefully, he turned Sherlock on his side, away from the blood as the alpha emptied his stomach on the ground.  John tenderly wiped his mouth with the edge of the scarf and murmured soothing nonsense.

”John? What happened? My head hurts.”  Sherlock sounded bewildered and John repeated what he’d told him earlier. John knew he would have to keep repeating it because Sherlock’s short term memory was affected by the blow.  That was fairly typical for a concussion and John tried hard not to worry. 

The ambulance and police showed up nearly simultaneously.  John found himself explaining to the paramedics what was going on before being shunted aside.  He then was giving information to the police while trying to keep one eye on what they were doing to his alpha.  He handed over the Glock that he’d taken from the meth dealers and answered their questions as best he could.  He was sure they’d assumed the Glock was used in the shooting of the dealer but they would find out later it hadn’t been fired. But John didn’t care.  Mycroft had got him special permission to carry a concealed weapon after the incident with the cabbie. 

Sherlock was being lifted into the ambulance when John broke away from the police to join him. The doors slammed shut behind him as he sat down at the back of the gurney beside the paramedic.  Sherlock was covered warmly so John was able to get his coat back. The left sleeve was stiff with drying blood but he barely noticed.  

“Which hospital are you transporting him to?”  John realised they weren’t driving south but were heading north.   
  
The paramedic answered as she was rechecking Sherlock’s vitals.  “St Bart’s is closest.”   
  
John shook his head.  “No, you can’t bring him there. He’s a sentinel and needs to go to St Thomas’. It’s not that much further. Have your partner turn us around.”   
  
Thankfully, she didn’t question him and moved to speak to the driver. Soon they were on their way to St Thomas’.  Sherlock stayed awake for most of the ride but kept repeating the same questions. John tried to stay optimistic.  This was normal for a moderate concussion and there was no need to panic. 

The A&E at St Thomas’ was a blur.  John followed the gurney and saw Lestrade waiting in the hallway.  He waved a bloody hand at the DI but continued to trail after his alpha.  

As a sentinel, Sherlock was brought immediately into an examination room. The paramedics had called ahead and the team was waiting for them. The medics rolled Sherlock's gurney into the room, calling out their observations and most recent vitals. 

A doctor who specialised in Sentinel medicine went immediately to work on Sherlock, who looked at him in confusion and called out querulously for John.  The omega moved toward his alpha but was restrained by one of the male nurses.   

John couldn’t understand why they were trying to separate them and resisted. “He’s a sentinel. The confusion and pain he’s feeling from the head injury could cause him to zone. I need to be there with him.”  
  
The nurse spoke soothingly to John, patted him on the back and tried to gently lead him from the room. “Look sir, I know you’re his bonded omega but there’s nothing you can do for him if he were to zone.  You can’t help him with that. We have some bonded guides on call for this very thing so you behave yourself and go sit out in the waiting room. I’m sure there’s a lot of paperwork that you could fill out too, so if you would just go we won’t have to call security.”  
  
John looked at him in bewilderment for a moment and then practically shouted. “No, no, you don’t understand. I’m his guide as well as his omega. I need to be here with him if you’re going to do anything for him in case he zones.”   

The room went deathly silent as he finished appealing to the nurse.  Looking around the room, all he saw were wide eyes staring at him over surgical masks. It took him a few heartbeats to realise he’d just outed himself as an omega guide to a room full of nurses and doctors who specialised in sentinel medicine.   _Fuck._  Well, there was nothing for it now.  He'd deal with the fallout when and if it came. 

Everyone kept staring at him for another long moment. The spell was broken when Sherlock called out for him again and he moved fast, squeezing in between two of the nurses and taking his alpha’s hand.  This time no one tried to stop him. He worked to keep Sherlock from zoning on the pain and confusion caused by the concussion while the doctor cleaned and wrapped up the wound in his head.

”We need to get x-rays and a CT scan.  Then we’ll staple the wound and I want him in hospital overnight for observation.” Turning to John, he spoke frankly with him.  “You’ll be needed to stay with him in one of our sentinel suites so while he’s on his way to x-ray, you get yourself cleaned up. We’ve got some extra scrubs and Doris will show you where to you need to go.” John was glad to obey. 

It took a few hours, but Sherlock was finally settled in his room.  John had a few minutes to meet with Lestrade and had him contact Mycroft.  Once Sherlock was settled, Mycroft and Lestrade were allowed to visit for a short time.  

The concussion not as severe as John had thought and Sherlock was already showing signs of improvement. He still had problems with memory and was very sleepy but the danger of zoning was past and he would be fine.  
  
As the doctor relaxed on the bed beside Sherlock, Mycroft spoke up. “John, you’ve been injured as well.  I can smell that you’ve been bleeding.  Do you want me or Inspector Lestrade to go with you to have that seen to?”  
  
Up until then, John had almost forgotten about the torn sutures. “Will you be okay here while I get this fixed up?” John wasn’t too sure about leaving Sherlock but now that things had calmed down, his arm was aching again and the bruise across his shoulders was making itself felt, as well. 

“I’ll be fine, John.  Mycroft will be here and I won’t be able to do anything but rest. He'll bore me to death.”  John laughed, kissed his sentinel and slid stiffly off the bed.

Lestrade put a hand on his good shoulder. “I’ll go with you, John.  I need to start your statement and to ask you about what happened at the warehouse.  He’ll be safe with me, Sherlock. We’ll see you soon.”

Wearily, John made his way back to the A&E and had them see to the cuts and bruises.  Lestrade stayed with him the whole time and made no comment on the injuries.  He did ask questions about the meth lab and told John what the cleanup team had found.  

Apparently the lab was a major producer of crystal meth in London and the four men they’d captured were wanted for a multitude of crimes. The warehouse had been scoured from top to bottom and the police had cleared everything out safely. And there was no sign of their serial killer. 

The man John had shot was going to recover.  So far, no one had questioned the shooting and John wasn’t going to borrow trouble or worry about it until it was necessary. He had too many other things to worry about. 

 

They were home the next day with Sherlock being much improved but still feeling some nausea. He was anxious for them to get back to searching the warehouses, but John was enforcing the doctor’s orders that he rest completely for at least a week and he would not be allowed to do anything taxing for the next two weeks after that. It was going to drive Sherlock, and by extension John, crazy with boredom but the omega was incredibly grateful that no serious harm was done and that Sherlock’s amazing brain was going to be just fine. 

Even though Sherlock was prevented from going out of the house for at least week, he had his homeless network continue the search.  Most were afraid to go deep into the warehouse district so they moved around the outskirts and questioned other homeless about the area. 

One of the more intrepid members of the homeless network found out that there had been some temporary workers hired to do construction work on one of the warehouses.  He couldn’t find out which one, however. But he did find out that the workers were illegal foreigners and they had stayed in one of the dosshouses not far from the district. 

Sherlock hired the man to spend a few nights in the same dosshouse and he managed to find some information about the temporary workers.  They had all been from various former Soviet nations and barely spoke enough English to get along.  The tools they had carried suggested they practised a variety of trades. There had been carpenters, electricians and plumbers.  The dosshouse manager remembered that they’d had an overseer of sorts who collected them every morning and brought them back every evening. 

He’d been a large, ginger alpha but that was all they’d remembered.  The workers had been there for about a month and then had left abruptly. Another group had come in and stayed about a month and then they too were gone. Since then, there had been nothing. No one knew which warehouse they’d worked on or exactly what they’d done.  But someone had seen the ginger alpha recently around a couple of the warehouses at the far west side nearest the river.  

Both Sherlock and John had a feeling that the ginger alpha was involved with the killer.  The homeless network was tasked to find him if possible and report his whereabouts.  It might be another way to find the killer’s lair faster.  They still had other warehouses to search when Sherlock was better, but Mummy’s party was coming up before Sherlock was going to be allowed to do any footwork. And John wasn’t going anywhere without him.

___________________________________________________________

A letter from the Tower arrived just after Sherlock returned from hospital. The members of the Tribunal had been selected and were to meet at the end of December, less than a week after Christmas.  It was something that John had both anticipated and dreaded.  

He couldn’t help wondering what the outcome would be for him.  It was the not knowing that was driving him round the twist.  But worrying about it wasn’t going to help and though it would be difficult, he would try to keep himself from obsessing about it.  

There were a few days before Mummy’s party and slightly over two weeks before the Tribunal convened so he had the time to absorb this information and prepare himself.  They’d heard from Graham Givens a few times about the charges and they’d been pretty much what they’d expected, as well. The most serious involved the accusation of assault and grievous bodily harm in the case of the unbonded that had attacked John.  

The doctor sighed and tried to distract himself by practicing on moving objects with his empathy. Working on opening the locks and handcuffs helped him keep his mind off things. It took a lot of concentration and energy to work with the complicated locks and he tired quickly. He despaired at ever getting very good at it to the point it would be useful. He was much better at the simpler locks and handcuffs and tended to concentrate on them. 

A big disappointment was that he was not getting better at lifting objects. Sherlock looked at him like he was crazy when he made a reference to being a poor Jedi and the sentinel reminded him about using pop culture references in his presence.  But John was improving at pushing objects. The more he practiced the easier it became, so he tried to work at it at least for half an hour every day despite his exhaustion. He made a note to himself to go to the clinic to get checked out if he kept feeling so tired.  It could just be the effects of stress and anxiety, but it was best to be sure.   

It was also getting close to the holidays and he thought listlessly about shopping for gifts, but couldn’t make the effort. There was too much to think about and there would be time for it all after Mummy’s party.  

______________________________________________________________ 

It was one of those days.  Tesco’s had been very busy and it had taken longer than usual to get through the queues.  All the holiday decorations and canned music had been garish and loud, giving him a headache.  The walk home had been cold and John had forgotten his gloves.  The only good thing was that John had not felt the presence of the killer since the day he had confronted the mysterious stalker.  The doctor hoped that maybe the man had finally decided to stop watching them. 

John suspected that the killer was aware of their search for him and was lying low for the time being.  Both John and Sherlock agreed that the man likely still had a fascination with Sherlock and probably wouldn’t stay idle for long, especially if he was planning to try to get John out of the way somehow. 

However, the lack of the man’s mental signature made John feel much lighter in spirit and hopeful that maybe they’d seen the last of him for a while.  

Because of the concussion, Sherlock had finally called a moratorium on chasing the killer for the time being. The detective had a theory that pulling back and appearing to abandon the chase might cause the killer to make a mistake or try to draw Sherlock’s attention again.  The detective's homeless network still had orders to look for the ginger alpha. John and Lestrade were actively searching the lists of distributors, but all the footwork was called off temporarily.    

Following up on electrical or gas usage for the buildings had not worked. As they had discovered, some of the warehouses were wired for electricity, water and gas but none showed any excessive use that would have warranted further investigation.  This killer was too damn good at covering his tracks. 

John knew it was frustrating for Sherlock. Clearly the killer had to have access to refrigeration or a freezer, based on what they’d found with the feet and was successfully plastinating body parts. The detective had been so sure that would be the way to find the correct building, so he was mystified and frustrated that that particular angle had not panned out. 

John wondered about that as he hiked up the stairs with the bags of groceries. How could someone run a freezer or refrigeration unit without electricity hook up? Could something like propane be used?   They’d have to use a lot of propane and they’d have to have their tanks refilled often.  

But an alternate fuel source such as solar was one possibility even though it was expensive and unwieldy.  They’d have to find a way to search the roofs of the suspected warehouses for solar panels.  The other possibility was a natural gas or petrol powered generator. However, they were loud and emitted deadly fumes.  John was confident that Sherlock would have heard one working. But only if it was switched on while they were in the area, though.   

On the other hand, they’d not been able to search the area at night.  Was it possible he could be using a combination of sources and maybe only at night?  Driving through the area in the dark would be very obvious but it might be the only way to safely discover if the killer was using an alternative energy source like a generator. He would have to suggest it to Sherlock when he saw him that evening.  
  
Winter weather had really settled in and he felt chilled. It would be a good time to clean out the fireplace and set up a fire to warm the room. After putting away the groceries, John knelt to scoop up the cold ash to put into the rubbish bin but the ash smelled strange and foul, making him feel nauseated.  Rolling his eyes in exasperation, he supposed Sherlock must have burned something toxic and/or nasty in the fireplace and went to fetch his organic vapour respirator. And no, he didn’t want to think about why he had to have a respirator in the flat in the first place. 

Task complete, John got a nice fire going and went to fix a cup of tea so he could relax. They’d been so busy for the last week and a half chasing down leads that went nowhere that he felt he deserved some time off.  

He was glad that Sherlock had stopped actively pursuing the foot case for now. John was tired of thinking about it all, especially since they’d not turned up anything useful recently. He had plenty to worry about with the Tribunal coming up and Mummy’s impending party. 

All he wanted to do was skip the party and sleep for a week but that wasn’t going to be possible. Sherlock had picked up John's new suit and the reality of it all had finally hit him as he’d hung it in the cupboard.  There was no way to get out of going and he would just have to deal with it.

As he began to fix his tea, he smelled something odd and decided to find out what it was.  The coffee grounds had been left in the coffee maker and the smell was making him feel a bit off.  Maybe he was catching something?  Considering the time of year, he wouldn’t be surprised if he was getting sick. It would certainly explain the tiredness.  If that was the case, there wasn’t much he could do aside from taking it easy and riding it out.  Shrugging, he tossed out the grounds, cleaned up the kitchen and made a nice mug of tea.  

Grabbing his latest novel, he stretched out on the sofa to read and relax while he waited for Sherlock to return home. He had fixed one of Sherlock’s favourite casseroles and it only needed to be popped into the oven for half an hour and they’d have a nice dinner.  A wave of tiredness washed over him and he couldn’t keep his eyes open.  Turning his face toward the back of the sofa, he decided to take a kip and drifted off immediately. 

He woke up still feeing tired but overall better. Looking at his watch, he realised he’d slept the entire afternoon away and Sherlock would be home soon.  Maybe he really was coming down with something.  Stretching and yawning, he made his way into the kitchen and turned on the cooker to pre-warm it before putting in the casserole. 

Shuffling into the loo, he washed his hands and face. Looking at his reflection in the mirror as he patted his cheeks with a towel, all he saw was a prematurely aged, greying and rather tired man.  Whatever Sherlock saw in him was a mystery to him, but he was one lucky omega. 

It was so odd thinking of himself as an omega and he still wasn’t used to it.   It had been such a non-issue most of his life that he was having trouble wrapping his head around it. Whenever Sherlock was near, he had no trouble. They fit together like puzzle pieces and always had from practically the moment they met.  But it still took him by surprise whenever someone referred to him as an omega.  

As he finished drying his face, his eye caught on the reflection of a brightly coloured box sitting in the windowsill behind him, partially hidden by the curtain.  It was the pregnancy test he’d bought a few weeks ago at the chemist’s shop.  It had been too early to use it when he’d first bought it but he mentally calculated back to the first day of his heat. He was shocked to realise it was now over seven weeks since then and it wasn’t too early to use it now.  It was well past time, actually. 

Turning away from the mirror, John stared at the box and felt his heart speed up.  Should he do this now or wait another week or so? Honestly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know right now.  There was so much going on and then to add something like this into the mix might not be a good thing.   
  
But he needed to know so he could make plans for the future. If he were pregnant, he would have to choose an omega obstetrician and make an appointment. The first trimester was so important for the future growth of the foetus and he wanted to make sure he did everything properly.  And that meant an exam at eight to ten weeks along. Maybe an ultrasound as well.   It might be difficult to get an appointment as a new patient in such a short time, so he had best get on with it.

Thinking and actually doing were two different things, however.  He stared at the box for a few more minutes before he forced himself to cross the room and pick it up. He opened it and read the directions, which told him to urinate in the cup provided and put the stick in the cup for a few minutes. A negative or positive sign would show depending on if he were pregnant or not.  His heart rate was still elevated and his hands were shaking a bit with nerves when he finally decided to give it a go.

The few minutes he had to wait felt like centuries, but he finally removed the stick from the cup. This time his hand was rock steady and he stared at the results for a few minutes before the positive sign actually registered with him.  When it did, his knees went weak and he sat down hard on the thankfully closed toilet seat lid. 

He was pregnant! Expecting, with child, in the family way, up the duff, had a bun in the oven and all those other quaint euphemisms.  It explained the tiredness and the nausea he’d been experiencing earlier.  His thoughts were all scattered and he didn’t know whether to feel ecstatic or terrified and settled on feeling both.  He couldn’t move and just kept staring at the stick in his hand. 

As he sat there, he heard rapid footsteps on the stairs and his sentinel called for him.

”In here!” he shouted, still unable to move, not taking his eyes off the stick. 

Sherlock came around the corner and hovered in the doorway, breathing hard. “John! Are you all right?  I could feel that you were frightened!”  His eyes were darting all around, searching fruitlessly for threats. Finally his gaze settled on what John was holding and he frowned, lines forming between his thick, dark brows.  
  
”What’s that, John? What is it that you’re holding?” He moved a bit closer to see as John held it up for him.

”It’s positive, Sherlock.”  
  
”Positive? What do you mean? What does this mean?”  Sherlock looked mystified and John could only blink at him for a moment, not understanding how Sherlock didn’t know what this was.  But then he remembered about the solar system and started to laugh. 

Sherlock knelt before him, still in his coat, gloves and scarf. He smelled crisp like the outdoors and John buried his face in his neck and inhaled the wonderful scent.   
  
”It means I’m pregnant, Sherlock.”  He pulled back to gaze into his alpha’s eyes and found his own were wet.  “We’re to have a child, luv. That’s what this means.”  He waved the stick in Sherlock’s face and giggled as his alpha’s eyes almost crossed trying to look at it.

”John?”  Sherlock’s voice squeaked out his name before the doctor was gathered into a frantic embrace.  He returned it with all his strength.  He was so scared and his heart was pounding but at the same time he wanted to shout the news to the world. 

Sherlock kissed his face, his ears and his mouth in between saying his name. John kissed back and tried not to whimper. Finally Sherlock buried his face in John’s hair and they rocked each other until the cooker’s timer rang to let them know dinner was ready.

Sherlock pulled back and his expression was a mixture of astonishment, wonder and awe as he stroked John’s hair back from his face.  “We’re having a child. I can’t believe it, John. I can’t believe it.”

John kissed him on the forehead, smoothing out the lines between the alpha’s grey-green eyes. “Yes, and you’re repeating yourself. Since I think that’s probably one of the signs of an impending apocalypse, please stop.  Let’s have dinner and we can talk some more. Your knees must be killing you.”  

Sherlock looked down where he was kneeling on the tile floor and then back up at John, still looking bemused and amazed but joy was the predominant emotion. John couldn’t help but grin as they stood and walked, arm and arm, into the kitchen. 

After dinner, they ended up entwined on the couch, not talking and just being with each other.  They’d built up the fire and watched it die down as they held each other tight. 

John had buried his face in Sherlock’s neck.  “I have to choose an omega obstetrician soon and make an appointment for my first exam.  I think I must have about twenty names to choose from, though.”  
  
Sherlock hummed in agreement. “I might have a name for you.  He’s a family friend and he attended my birth.”  
  
John sat up and stared down at his alpha, trying not to smile. “He must be older than dirt if he helped deliver you. Shouldn’t he be retired by now?”  
  
Sherlock gave him a mock offended look. “He was a young, brilliant obstetrician, just starting his practice when my parents approached him for help.  Mummy had had a lot of trouble carrying to term. She had at least four miscarriages between Mycroft and me.  Dr Fulton was able to help her and she was finally able to give birth to me. She experienced a very difficult pregnancy but she swears by him.  Would you like me to ring him?”  
  
”Did you say Dr Fulton? As in Dr David Fulton?  The extremely famous researcher of omega obstetrics?” 

When Sherlock nodded, John blew out an awed whistle. “I had to read his textbooks when I was in obstetrical clinical rotation in med school.  His work was seminal and ground breaking. And of course, he’s a family friend.”  John stood up and began pacing. “Oh my god. The man is a giant in his field! I can’t possibly go to him! Does he even take patients?”  
  
Sherlock stood up as well and snagged John into a hug. “He will do if I ask him.  He’s my godfather and I don’t think he’ll say no.”  
  
John clung to Sherlock and calmed his breathing.  After a few moments, he nodded. “Fine.  Give him a ring and see if he’ll take me as a patient.  I think I’m at least 7 weeks along so I’ll need to see him no later than two to three weeks from now, preferably sooner than three weeks because of the Tribunal.  I can get my courage up by then, I think.”  
  
John could feel Sherlock smile into his hair.  “I’ll ring him first thing in the morning and you can talk to him as well.”  

Heaving a huge sigh, John fully relaxed into Sherlock’s arms.  “I want to wait to tell people about this.  At least until I’m twelve weeks along. Miscarriage is so common early on and I don’t want others to know until then.”  
  
”What about your Mum and Harry?” Sherlock held John tighter. The doctor could tell the word miscarriage had bothered him. 

“Not even them.  Everyone will be able to tell by scent after 12 weeks, but I just want things further along before I get them all excited.” 

“Whatever you want, John.  I’ll do it.”  
  
John pulled back from the embrace and smiled up at Sherlock. “Thanks, luv.  I’m glad you understand.” 

“I do understand. And there’s a lot to talk about and prepare for now.  Thankfully we have 9 months.”  Joy and sheer delight were shining out of the alpha’s eyes and John couldn’t help but feel lightness in his heart and spirit at the sight of Sherlock’s happiness.  
  
”It’s a bit more than 7 months and counting, luv.” He laughed at Sherlock’s horrified expression when he realised John was right.  “We’ll manage. And I know we’ll do fine.”  

If he kept telling himself that, maybe he’ll eventually believe it.  In the meantime, they had a million things to do, not to mention Mummy’s party coming up shortly. 

True to his word, Sherlock rang Dr Fulton’s office and got through to the doctor himself.  John listened to their conversation nervously and was relieved when Sherlock rang off without asking him to speak to the obstetrician.  It would be tough enough to meet the man in person but impossible to speak to him when he’d not even met him.   
  
Sherlock’s discussion with Dr Fulton had been fond and very cordial. “We have an appointment the Monday after Mummy’s party.  That’s in bit over a week.  Will that suit you?”  
  
John was flabbergasted.  “He’s given us an appointment so soon? Isn’t he busy with patients?”  
  
”Apparently not. He’s slowing down his practice and is preparing to retire.  But he was more than happy to see us. In fact he wanted us to come sooner, but I figured we’d just deal with one major thing at a time.  I do hope that’s all right with you?”  
  
John’s stomach gave a lurch at the thought of going so soon after Mummy’s party and before the Tribunal, but actually it would be something to look forward to and would help him get through the weekend.  “I think it’s brilliant and I can’t wait to meet him.” John beamed at Sherlock. At least that was one more thing done and they could get back to work on their case. 

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

A few days later, John looked up from his book as Sherlock swept in from outdoors. He brought in a blast of crisp air that wafted John’s way as he took off his scarf and coat. “Mycroft just rang. The party is in two days.  Mummy wants us to come up tomorrow so she can meet you before she gets too distracted with all the last minute party arrangements.”  

The doctor sighed.  He’d hoped to avoid having to spend much time with his new mother-in-law.  “Fine.  But we’re not staying there more than a minute longer than we have to do.  We should be getting the names of the warehouse owners next week.  There is a lot to follow up on and I’d like to get started as soon as we can once you’re medically cleared. I’m bloody tired of this case.”  
  
Sherlock sighed dramatically and flopped down on the sofa. “I’m just as tired of this case as you are and I hate this.  I feel like we’ve been working for years and getting absolutely nowhere. I don’t think I’d have become a consulting detective if all my cases were like this one.” 

The detective groaned in disgust and covered his face with a pillow, muffling his voice. “Having to wade through all this paperwork makes me unfortunately understand what it’s like to be Lestrade and it’s absolutely horrid.” 

He put the pillow down, sat up and said seriously, “I’m sticking this out though, even the boring parts. The killer has threatened you and may still intend to come after you.  He's good at covering his tracks but once we find that one clue we need, all the rest will fall like dominos and we’ll finally be able to catch him.” 

 

 

_____________________________________________________________________ 

The next afternoon found John standing outside on the front stairs with the luggage, waiting for Sherlock to bring the car around.  He was self-consciously wearing his new coat that the detective had bought him earlier in the week to replace the one ruined by the killer’s scalpel. The coat was of a very fine black wool and cut to accentuate his broad shoulders and narrow hips. John had fallen in love with it immediately. It must have cost a fortune, though and he still wasn’t used to wearing clothing that cost more than he made in a couple of months.  

Sherlock had simply laughed at his worries, wound a black cashmere scarf around his neck and kissed him.  “The coat goes very well with your blond hair and I love seeing you like this.  You look positively edible.” With that, the detective had nipped John’s lower lip and gone to fetch the car. 

While he stood in the cold, Sherlock pulled up in front with the Mercedes and hopped out to grab both cases.  As Sherlock put the holdalls in the boot, John asked him a question he’d been thinking about for a while. “Do you have a garage where you park this thing?  It never occurred to me to ask where you keep it when we’re not using it.” He hung the garment bags on the hook in back and closed the door, turning to his alpha. 

“Of course. It’s just down the street and I’ll point out the door when we drive by next. I’ve got an extra key for the garage and the car for you.” Sherlock presented to John a keychain with two keys on it. 

“Thanks, luv.  I doubt I’ll need them but it’s good to have.” He added the new keys to his keychain and put on his seatbelt.  He felt incredibly nervous at the thought of meeting Sherlock’s mother and father.  Mostly he was worried that they’d not like him. He didn’t particularly care for his sake but he didn’t want Sherlock to be ashamed of bonding with him.  Deep down he knew his alpha was completely devoted to him but there was still that small bit of insecurity that kept rearing its ugly head.  He still had trouble believing Sherlock had chosen him.  Beautiful, gorgeous, amazingly brilliant Sherlock had wanted plain, unremarkable John Watson for his bond mate. Sometimes he still wanted to pinch himself to see if he was dreaming. 

And now with a child coming, he wasn’t sure how to feel.  One moment he was euphoric and the next he was as scared as he’d never been in Afghanistan on his most dangerous missions.  His thoughts swirled in unresolved circles as they left to visit the family. 

 

 

 ______________________________________________________________________

 

Of course the house was a ridiculously huge Georgian mansion. At least that’s what John thought it was but he didn’t know for sure.  It looked like the kind of building used to film BBC period dramas and he expected someone in Regency dress to appear at any moment. 

“Is this the family home where you grew up?” he asked as they drove down the long road toward the beautiful but imposing edifice. 

“Oh, no. This is where Mummy and Father spend the winter season. It’s one of their smaller homes.” John’s eyebrows rose at the news. Naturally it would be one of their smaller homes.  He really didn’t want to know where the others were and so didn’t ask. He had always been a firm believer in not asking questions when he didn’t really want to know the answer. 

They drove around to the front of the house and parked.  It was cold but bright and clear as they got out of the vehicle.  Sherlock went around to the boot to remove the luggage as a uniformed servant—a footman maybe—silently came around and took the cases up the stairs and inside the house.  

The door was opened by a butler, of all things. At least John thought the man was a butler as he wasn’t introduced.  Sherlock put an arm around John and led him into the foyer, which was, of course, enormous. It was brightly and tastefully decorated for the season, right down to sprigs of mistletoe hanging over the doorways.   

Another servant took their coats and scarves just as a very beautiful woman who was surely Mrs Holmes swept into the room to greet them. She was a tall and slim omega, dressed in a very understated but elegant skirt and blouse with minimal jewellery that looked to have cost a fortune. Her slender figure and dark curls reminded John very much of Sherlock but that’s where any resemblance ended.     
   
Her gait slow and dignified, she held out her hands.  “Sherlock! It’s very good to see you, dear.” John was expecting her to hug Sherlock but was rather surprised when all she did was take his hands and squeeze lightly.  If it had been John’s mum he’d have been practically strangled by one of her hugs.  

Sherlock pressed her hands, clearly happy to see her. ”Mummy, you look lovely. It’s wonderful to see you as well.” Mrs Holmes preened and smiled.  “Mummy, I’d like to present to you my bond mate, John Watson.  John, this is my mother, Violet Holmes.”  
  
Mrs Holmes nodded toward the doctor and extended her hand.  “John. I’ve heard so many things about you.”  Her face was faintly smiling but as soon as John grasped her limp fingers, he could feel her intense dislike and anger directed at him full force. He also sensed a bitter disappointment and dissatisfaction but it seemed to be directed more at Sherlock than at him. 

She abruptly turned to Sherlock, dismissing John completely before he could even return her greeting.  “Darling, I’ve put you in the guestroom on the second floor.  Davis should have taken your bags there. Go on and get settled in.”  She waved as she left the room. “Mycroft and Anthea arrived earlier. There’s much to do before the party! I’ll see you at tea, dear!” John noticed the invitation was directed at Sherlock alone. He wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not, but he apparently wasn’t invited for tea.   
  
Sherlock seemed completely oblivious to the insult his mother had just directed at John. Sherlock smiled and gathered John to him again. “The room is this way, John.”  

He took them up the stairs and down a long hall to a room at the back of the house.  John took the time to glance around at all the priceless antiques and was thrilled to recognise some of Fabienne Holmes’ work. It made him happy to think of her and how much he adored Sherlock’s grandmum.

Their luggage was indeed in the room and John took a few moments to put everything into drawers and cupboards while Sherlock went into the spacious en suite bath.  Thankfully they would only be staying two nights and then they could go home. There really was no good way to approach this subject without upsetting Sherlock so he decided to be direct.

“Your mother doesn’t like me, Sherlock.” John spoke seriously as he hung his new suit in the cupboard.  “You should also know that she’s angry and upset with you. How likely do you think she’ll try to cause problems?”  He turned around to face Sherlock, who looked concerned. 

“She’s angry and upset, you say?  I often have trouble being able to tell with her.  She’s not very expressive and has always been good at hiding her feelings from me.  I’m guessing your empathy caught her emotions?”  
  
John nodded and went over to embrace his bond mate. It was apparent that Sherlock adored his mother and knowing she was angry with him was upsetting him. 

“She’s got some empathy, too, did you know?”  Sherlock shook his head in surprise. “Well, she does.  She’s even got rudimentary shields, but they’re very thin and no barrier to me. That might be why you have trouble sensing her feelings.  Because of her empathy, she’s good at hiding them from a sentinel.  

“But as soon as I shook her hand, she broadcast everything as if she were screaming it aloud.  She hates me and is alternately furious and disappointed in you.” 

Sherlock buried his face in John’s hair and the doctor could feel his sadness.  John tried to comfort his alpha. “I’m sorry, luv.  If she’s anything like my Mum, she’ll get over it after a while. Especially when we give her a grandchild.    

“She really has no choice if she wants to be a part of our child’s life. And what mother doesn’t secretly want to be a grandmum?” He hugged Sherlock harder.

Sherlock laughed at that. “It’s not a secret with her! That’s all she seems to talk about any more. She’s been pressuring me to bond and give her grandchildren for ages. And now that we are, she doesn’t want to accept you as my bond mate.  We’ll just have to see how things go this weekend.” 

“Agreed. By the way, I don’t know if you noticed, but she didn’t invite me to tea.  Which is probably a good thing, seeing that my “morning sickness” seems to hit me in the middle of the afternoon.  I’m exhausted, too.  So I’ll stay up here and take a kip.  Maybe the staff would be good enough to send me some toast and tea?” 

“I think that can be arranged. Please lie down and rest, John. I’ll see to it.” Giving John a kiss for good measure, Sherlock left the room to order tea for his bond mate. John wandered into the en suite to wash up and get a drink of water. If the nausea got worse, he was going to ask for some medications from the doctor when he finally got to see him.  
  
Thinking of the baby gave him incredible jolts of joyfulness combined with absolute terror and then fierce feelings of protectiveness.  It was a weird rollercoaster of emotions and he wished things would calm down.  However, John knew that the tiredness, mood swings, sickness and the enhanced sex drive were all a direct result of his hormones and so didn’t expect things to improve any time soon.  

It was important to him to make sure that he didn’t take his bad moods out on Sherlock, though.  His temper was legendary and Sherlock had never really been on the sharp end of it, at least not a full-blown temper. Those who had been the focus of his anger usually ended up in hospital. 

Fluctuating hormones could make him lose control very quickly, though.  Knowing where the feelings were coming from did help him deal with them better and he vowed he would keep his temper. Mrs Holmes might test that resolution before the end of the weekend, though.  He could only overlook so much. 

He finished in the loo and was walking toward to huge bed when he heard a discreet knock on the door.  Wondering if it was the tea and toast, he opened the door to find his brother-in-law standing on the other side.

“Mycroft! How are you?” Smiling broadly, he shook Mycroft’s hand in both of his. “Please, come in and sit down by the fire. I’m very glad to see you.”  
  
They sat down in the armchairs in front of the warm fireplace. Mycroft sat forward with a serious expression. “I do hope I’m not disturbing you, John.  It’s just that I’ve not had a chance to see you since that unfortunate incident in France and Sherlock said you wouldn’t be joining us for tea.”  
  
John shook his head and gave Mycroft a rueful smile. “Leave it to you to consider being seriously injured whilst saving my life an ‘unfortunate incident’.  I’ve been hoping to see you and get the chance to thank you in person.  I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate your intervention that night and how sorry I am that you were hurt because of me.”  
  
Mycroft smiled faintly and his cheeks coloured in embarrassment. “It was nothing you wouldn’t have done if the situation had been reversed, John.  I’m just glad I was there to help.” 

“Right. Well, I’m very grateful and I want you to know that, as far as I’m concerned, things are even between us and you’ll be welcome in our home any time.’ 

John could tell that Mycroft was honestly touched by his comment. “Thank you, John.  I was hoping that you might feel that way. Anthea and I would like to invite you and Sherlock to our home sometime, after all the unpleasantness with the Tower is done.”  
  
The doctor was surprised. “You know about that? Silly me. Of course you do.  You’ve got contacts in the Tower.  What are they saying?”  With all the things going on at home and the party, John had succeeded in forgetting about the upcoming Tribunal for a while. 

“Not a lot, unfortunately.  I just know that they’ve chosen the judges to take part in the Tribunal. I understand they’ve already informed you that it will take place the end of this month.  They’ve already taken statements from all the witnesses and when you arrive, you’ll have the chance to testify. That’s pretty much all I know at the moment.”  Mycroft looked a bit apologetic. 

“Thank you, Mycroft. Unfortunately, there’s really nothing that I can do until we hear from the Tower.”  
  
”No, indeed.  You must be patient.  John, for what it’s worth, Moira knows what an asset you would be to the sentinel community. With your connections to the Holmes family through Sherlock, I doubt they will be harsh with you. I don’t want you to worry over much about it.”  
  
John shook his head. “It’s rather hard not to be worried about it. From what I’ve been told, what I did – a guide committing violence against sentinels-- is pretty much unprecedented in the history of the Sentinel Tower.  I expect Hayes might have to throw the book at me to appease some of the families of the men I injured.  Especially that unbonded.”  John still refused to feel very guilty about him. 

Mycroft picked up on his thoughts. “That unbonded sentinel would never have been injured if he had obeyed his Sentinel Alpha Prime and stayed out of the Hunt.  The person who is most to blame for that sentinel’s injury is Fitzhugh. Colin was very lax in his supervision of the younger sentinels.  I wonder sometimes if he didn’t urge them to disobey the rules and this is the result.”  

John hummed in agreement. “You’re right. I know it. It’s just nerve-wracking not knowing what’s going to happen. But enough about me. How are you feeling?  Has the wound healed well? What does your doctor say?”   
  
Mycroft smiled at the barrage of questions.  “I’m fully recovered with no permanent damage. My doctor is quite happy with my progress and I don’t need to see her about it any longer, thank you for asking.”  
  
John sighed in relief. “Thank goodness. Sherlock said you were fine, but it’s a different thing to actually see it.  Again, thank you for saving my life.”  
  
”And again, you would have done the same.  Now I should let you get some rest. Sherlock said you were tired and if I’m not mistaken, the tea he ordered for you is here.” 

Mycroft rose to answer the door and the servant brought the tea over to the table near the fire. 

“Shall I pour for you, sir?” the man asked politely.   
  
”No, thank you. I’ll take care of it.”  The man nodded and left as quietly as he’d arrived. John blew out a breath and looked up at his brother-in-law. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to having servants around. It’s…surreal.”  He made a face and Mycroft laughed. 

“I have heard from Anthea that it does take some getting used to but it didn’t take her long.  I believe she values their services highly now.  I don’t suppose you and Sherlock will ever really have to worry about that, though. You both are very independent men and I expect you’ll always take care of everything yourselves.  Though I can recommend some excellent beta nannies when the time comes.”  His eyes twinkled and he winked. 

John opened his mouth but then closed it.  It was clear that Mycroft knew something. The doctor narrowed his eyes in mock severity and asked teasingly. “And just what do you think you know, Mycroft Holmes?” 

The beta’s smile grew larger, if possible. “I suspect there will be the pitter-patter of tiny feet in the Watson-Holmes household in a few months.” John rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but share the grin with his brother-in-law.   
  
”You’re right, as usual, but please don’t spread it around too much yet. I wanted to wait until the end of the first trimester to begin informing people in case there’s a problem.”  He couldn’t say the word miscarriage and Mycroft understood immediately and headed for the door.  

“I promise not to say a thing, though I think Anthea knows. I’ll leave you to your rest. You’re going to need it dealing with Mummy.”  

The beta’s mouth was tight with disapproval. “I’ve spoken with her about you but she’s not inclined to listen.  She tends to hold grudges and you’ve managed to thwart plans she’s had in the making for years.  So she’s not particularly happy with you or Sherlock.  She will get over it, but it is likely to be a bit unpleasant for some time yet. I hope you will be able to overlook some of her behaviour.”  

He stopped himself as if he was afraid he was going too far.  John had lived with Sherlock long enough to pick up on subtle tells, though.  There was something unpleasant about Mummy that Mycroft felt uncomfortable discussing.  That was fine. John could hold his own against one woman, no matter how angry she was at him. 

“Okay, then.  By the way, does your mother know that I’m also a guide?  Somehow I got the impression that she didn’t know, mainly based on that invitation I received to the party.” 

Instead of answering straight out, Mycroft considered for a moment and then answered with a crooked grin. “I’ve always believed with good reason, that information is a valuable resource that can be used as currency or wielded like a weapon.  The fact that you are an omega guide is privileged information and you are the only one who should decide who knows this about you.  So no, Mummy does not know you are anything but an omega. If you decide to tell her, that’s up to you.”  
  
”But how did  _you_  find out?”  John was a bit confused. 

“I found out about you through Fitzhugh, but very few people actually know what you are and those who do, don’t know your full name.  The members of the Tower will not give out your name without permission because they consider you one of theirs.  I thought your decision to conceal your identity at the press conference was well done.”  
  
He turned once more to leave but just as he opened the door, he looked back. “I almost forgot to tell you that I had a call from a colleague of mine in the House of Lords.  The proposed legislation to roll back omega and guide rights has been soundly defeated in Parliament. The vote was taken this afternoon.” John sat up in surprise and gasped at the news.  

“Not surprisingly, the Traditionalists have taken their loss poorly but there is no way that the legislation will ever be reintroduced, especially with the loss of support from London Tower.”  He smiled at John and his eyes were genuinely kind. “I thought you’d like to know. There should be something about it on the evening news broadcast. There is a television in the cabinet over there.”  Mycroft gestured toward a piece of furniture that John had not really paid any attention to before. 

“Thank you, Mycroft. That’s brilliant news!”  John felt like his face was going to split, his grin was so wide.  

“Now you must have some tea before it gets cold and then rest. I can tell that you’re tired. I’ll see you at dinner, John. Father should be there tonight so you will meet him then. Rest well.” With that he closed the door. 

John wanted to jump up and down and whoop with joy.  He could feel Sherlock’s sudden concern for his unexpected emotional change and tried to reassure him through their link that everything was fine.  

 _The legislation had failed!_   It was fantastic news and a huge relief for the entire country. 

Early on, the Traditionalists had tried to get the proposed law through voting without really allowing anyone to examine what it would mean to the average person.  When John’s experience of being pursued by the Tower was literally filmed and put on television, an enormous grassroots opposition to the proposed law formed.  

John had thought to come out and publicly oppose the legislation but in the end it hadn’t been necessary. Combined with the withdrawal of the Towers’ support, the legislation was doomed as politicians began to abandon the proposal and turned their backs on their former allies. 

Beaming, John toasted the dead legislation with a cup of tea and a digestive.  He hoped the Members of Parliament who had proposed the law were voted out of office at the next election cycle.  John vowed to do all he could to see it happen. 

Yawning, the doctor made his way to the huge bed.  A celebratory kip was called for and he smiled as he sank into the comfortable mattress.  He had a family dinner and a bonding announcement party to get through and then they could go home. The doctor’s appointment was Monday, then Christmas and finally the Tribunal.  Despite all that, his thoughts were surprisingly pleasant as he sank into sleep. 

He hadn’t been asleep for much more than an hour when he was startled awake by a knock on the door.  He sat up and rubbed his eyes, wondering who it could be and called out, “Come in.” 

The door opened and Violet Holmes strode inside the room.  She looked very cool and elegant. “I’m so sorry, John. Did I wake you?”  
  
Quickly, John checked the time and slid off the bed. “Yes, but it was time I got up anyway, otherwise I’ll not be able to sleep tonight. Please come in and have a seat.”  
  
The fire had died down but the embers were still hot and glowing as they sat in the armchairs.  The remains of John’s tea were still on the side table but there was nowhere else to move it without appearing fussy, so he ignored it and focused his attention on his mother-in-law. 

Mrs Holmes sat back comfortably, crossed her legs and stared at him with disconcertingly sharp eyes. “I was sorry you were feeling too tired to come to tea.  I hope you’re feeling better now?” 

“Yes, thank you. I’m feeling much better.” She continued to stare at him and John suddenly wondered where Sherlock was. 

Before he could ask, she answered him. “I’ve sent Sherlock off to the village to pick up a few things that we’ll need for the party tomorrow.’”

John nodded. “Yes, the party.  Will there be many people? I don’t think Sherlock said.”

”We’ve invited one hundred fifty people and ninety have confirmed their attendance.  My bond mate is well connected in the government and this is an excellent opportunity for Sherlock to meet many of Siger’s colleagues and influential individuals in London.  My son has so much potential, don’t you agree, John?”  
  
The doctor’s eyebrows rose and he wondered where she was going with this. “Of course he does. He’s the most brilliant man I’ve ever met. He can do anything he sets his mind to do.”  
  
She leaned forward and eyed him hard with a strange intensity. “Yes, that’s so true, John. I’m very glad to see that we agree about that. Sherlock is the most talented alpha sentinel this country has seen in years and I want to see to it that he reaches the height of his career.  He could achieve so much and might even surpass his brother. As the heir to an earldom, Sherlock has so many more responsibilities than Mycroft, you know.”

Not sure what to say to that, John shifted in his seat and remained silent.  
  
Violet sat back again and smiled. “I plan to see that he achieves his potential.  I’m ruthless that way, you see, and will do everything in my power to make it happen.  Do you understand me, John?”  
  
Suddenly, he did. “Yes, Ma’am, I understand you perfectly.”  
  
”I knew that you would, John. You seem very smart for an omega.” Giving the doctor a large, insincere smile, she stood and smoothed her skirt.  John rose immediately and stood with hands at his side, spine straight, chin up and shoulders back, facing her like the soldier he was.  

Her smile slipped slightly at his subtle defiance but then it was back bright and cheery as she moved to the door.  She turned back to him as she stepped into the hallway. “I hope you’ll feel well enough to come to dinner, John.”   

”I wouldn’t miss it for anything, Ma’am. Thank you and good afternoon.” He stared straight in her face, his expression pleasant but unyielding.  
  
Nodding, she left but he caught a perplexed look on her face before she had completely turned away.  Shutting the door, he leaned his forehead against it, sucked in a huge breath and let it out slowly.  

Apparently Mummy had just declared war on him. Just how she planned to wage it, he wasn’t certain, but he was going to find out.  And he was sure it wouldn’t be pleasant. The woman had been bleeding rage and frustration with every breath she took the entire visit. 

Walking slowly back toward the fireplace, John wondered when Sherlock would return and if he should tell his alpha what had happened.  He now felt more tired than he had before his kip and looked at the bed longingly.  There was no point in not resting when he had the chance and went back to the bed, sure he wouldn’t sleep. But he was out like a light as soon as his head touched the pillow. 

He woke slowly to hear Sherlock moving quietly around the room.  Stretching, he realised he felt much better and sat up to see his bond mate setting out their clothing for dinner. 

“I hope you slept well.  Mummy wants us to dress more casually at dinner this evening. Will you be comfortable in this, John?”   Sherlock had chosen a pair of plain black trousers, a white shirt and a new charcoal cardigan. The contrasts of blacks and greys were quite attractive. 

Of course Sherlock was wearing one of his less formal suits with the top two buttons of the shirt undone, exposing the long, pale column of his neck. John’s mouth went dry at the sight and he had to stop himself from grabbing his bond mate and gnawing at his throat. It wouldn’t do to leave marks there before dinner.  
  
“This is just fine, Sherlock. As long as you don’t think it’s too casual, I’ll be happy to wear that.  
  
“I think you’ll look wonderful.  However, the most important thing is that you feel comfortable.”  

They made their way downstairs to the parlour where Anthea and Mycroft were seated and enjoying cocktails.  They had a drink ready for Sherlock and some water for John.  Mrs Holmes was no where to be seen but a handsome, slim alpha sentinel with steel grey hair was standing by the fireplace.  His face was remote and forbidding, but John knew who he was instantly. When the man saw them and smiled, his features transformed and his expression was full of warmth and humour.  Sherlock had inherited his eyes and lips and John fervently hoped his alpha would look that distinguished and handsome when he was that age. 

Sherlock glanced fondly down at John and put a hand at the small of his back, directing him toward the man standing at the fireplace. John could feel how proud Sherlock was of him and he couldn’t help feeling like he was ten feet tall.  “Father, I’d very much like you to meet John Watson, my bond mate. John, may I present to you my father, Siger Holmes.”  
  
“I’m pleased to meet you, John. Mycroft was telling me you were tired from the trip from London. I hope you’re feeling better now?”  Mr Holmes’ voice was also a deep baritone and just as melodious as Sherlock’s. John grinned at the alpha and reached to shake his hand.

“I’m just fine, sir.  I’m delighted to meet you, as well.”  As they shook hands, John could feel the genuine pleasure Mr Holmes had at meeting him. He also picked up on the pride he was feeling for his son.  Just as he let go however, the doctor felt a sharp stab of surprise from the man. Before John could say anything more, Mr Holmes turned to Sherlock and spoke to him in quietly reproachful tones. 

“Sherlock, why didn’t you tell me that John is also your guide?   My god, having an omega guide in the family is an incredible honour!”  He looked back at John with an awed expression. 

Mycroft spoke up first. “We haven’t told many people because we didn’t want anyone to associate John with the poor unfortunate who was pursued by the Tower a few months ago.”  
  
Sherlock took up the tale. “I realise you were out of the country for most of that week, Father, but you must have heard something about it. It was all over the news for a month. 

“John was the focus of London Tower’s Hunt. At first, it was only speculated that John was an unbonded guide but since the press conference, he has now been identified as an omega guide. We did our best to keep John’s full name secret but if it was widely known that my John is an omega guide, people would connect him with those events at the Tower. We’re trying to keep it quiet and only in the family so reporters don’t come after John.” 

The doctor felt rather guilty because Sherlock still didn’t know that John had accidentally outed himself as an omega guide at the hospital the day the detective had been injured.  John was still waiting for the fallout of that incident but so far, he’d not been contacted or bothered by any reporters.  He hoped fervently that the information hadn’t left that examination room, but somehow he doubted it.  

Siger turned his concerned gaze to the doctor. “So you were that guide who was brutalised by Fitzhugh?”  When John nodded, Mr Holmes shook his head in disbelief. “You hid from the Tower so you could stay free to bond with Sherlock when he returned?  My word, I think that’s the bravest thing I’ve ever heard.  You’ll have to tell me about it when we have the time.  I knew about the attack at Maman’s home where Mycroft was hurt, but didn’t know about this.”  

John shot a quick glance at Mycroft, who was looking uncomfortable. Thankfully, his father didn’t notice and John decided then not to mention Mycroft’s other role in his recent adventure. 

Siger cocked his head and looked toward the hallway.  “However, my bond mate is calling us into dinner now.  Shall we?” He led the way out of the parlour and into the large formal dining room. 

Mrs Holmes was waiting for them and graciously directed everyone to their seats.  She had John sit to Sherlock’s left and across from Anthea and Mycroft.  Mr Holmes was seated at the head of the table and Mrs Holmes to John’s left at the other end across from Mr. Holmes.  
  
Servants came and went, serving courses and pouring wine.  John refused any alcohol and stayed with water. 

Of course, Mrs Holmes noticed.  “Why don’t you want any wine, John? Do you have a drink problem that we should know about?”  

So this was the first volley in their war. The doctor’s eyebrow rose in surprise at the rudeness of the question and he was speechless for a moment. His sister certainly had a problem with alcohol but he didn’t think Mrs Holmes had to know that. He also didn’t want her to know he was staying away from alcohol because he was pregnant. 

“No, ma’am.  I have no problem with alcohol but I’ve not been well lately and so I’m abstaining for the time being.”    

She looked at him suspiciously. “I was under the impression that alcoholism runs in your family.  So I was naturally concerned.”  Smiling, she turned back to her dinner while John glanced over at his bond mate in horror.  How did she know about his father and Harry? Had Sherlock told her?

He felt relieved at Sherlock’s frown and slight head shake. The alpha looked as shocked as John felt.

Mr Holmes admonished her. “Violet, John is new to the family and I don’t think it is appropriate to interrogate him like this.” 

“If he’s to be a new part of this family as you say, don’t you think he should know us, warts and all, dear?"

When she narrowed her eyes at Mr Holmes, John knew that Siger’s attempt to defend him was a mistake.  He braced himself, being somewhat familiar with these kinds of arguments in his own home growing up. Before she could continue her tirade against her husband, Sherlock interrupted.  John could tell he was shocked and surprised at the way his mother was behaving.  
  
“Mummy, that was completely uncalled for. Please apologise to John.”   
  
Her smile at Sherlock was brittle and she took another sip. “Oh, of course.  John, I’m terribly sorry you have a history of alcoholics in your family. How’s that, darling?”  

Sherlock blinked, his face a frozen mask as he stared in disbelief at his mother. It seemed that his mother was one of the only people in the world who could wound the detective enough to stop him in his tracks.  Everyone was looking anywhere but at Mrs Holmes while John chewed at his lip. This situation was getting out of control astonishingly quickly.  John had been forewarned by Mycroft about Mrs Holmes’ behaviour but hadn’t expected anything quite like this. 

The doctor could feel Sherlock’s confusion and hurt and knew he was going to say something unforgivable to his mother shortly.  The doctor reached out a hand under the table, put it on Sherlock’s knee and squeezed lightly, soothing and calming his sentinel.  

He smiled around at everyone sitting so stiffly at the table and projected calmness for all he was worth. Siger, Mycroft and Anthea immediately noticed his use of empathy and smiled gratefully at him.  Violet was either indifferent or didn’t notice. 

“It’s all right, Sherlock. What she says is completely correct and if you recall, one of the first things you observed about me was the fact my sister is an alcoholic. I shouldn’t take offence when your mother is only speaking the truth.” 

His mild response seemed to take all the wind out of her sails. Mrs Holmes sat back and gave John a shrewd, calculating stare.  She was silent for a few moments and John could tell that she was beginning to re-evaluate her tactics.  

He would willingly be the target for Mrs Holmes if it meant that she left Sherlock alone. It was clear she could hurt her son badly with just a word and wouldn’t hesitate to do so.  John could feel anger radiating from her and she was more than ready to wield it at the dinner table.  

Thankfully, her wrath had been temporarily diverted and dinner progressed more or less normally. Conversation flowed about the usual things like other family members or the weather.  The food was fantastic and there were dishes that enticed even John’s poor appetite.   

Unfortunately, the atmosphere continued to be extremely tense.  It reminded John of walking into a minefield.  One had to pay absolute attention at all times or something would explode with dire consequences.  

The fact remained that Violet was a bully and knew just how to use her position as matriarch to wound with surgical precision.  Apparently no one in the Holmes family quite knew how to deal with her in a temper, so this behaviour must be a rare occurrence.  That fact made John feel somewhat better about the whole thing.  

Coffee and dessert were being served when Mrs Holmes decided to switch her attention back to John.  “So, John. Tell us about yourself. What is it that you do? I’m sure everyone would love to know.” Mrs Holmes’ smile was pinned on her face and looked as genuine as a piece of costume jewellery. 

John glanced around at everyone at the table. He was fairly certain they all knew exactly what he did.  He sent out a tendril of empathy and realised she was setting him up for something. He had no choice but to play along for now.

”I’m a medical doctor, Ma’am, specialising in trauma surgery.  I thought you knew.”  He wasn’t going to back down to her even if he wasn’t certain what her game was yet. 

“And where do you work?”  
  
Ah. So this was it. “I was working at St Bart’s A&E.”  
  
She drained her wine glass and sat it down, playing with the stem. She motioned for one of the servants to refill it and looked back up at John.  “You say that in the past tense. Are you no longer employed?”   
  
John understood where she was going with this and pressed his knee against Sherlock’s to keep him from reacting. “That’s correct, Mrs Holmes. I’m no longer working there.  When Sherlock and I bonded we ended up in France with your mother-in-law, as you know. I won’t go into all the details, but we stayed a month and when I returned, I no longer had a job.” 

He wasn’t going to go into the mess with the Tower or Fitzhugh at the dinner table.  She already knew most of it anyway. “However, once my employer discovered the reason I was absent was because I had found my alpha to bond with, he was willing to take me back.” All of that was the truth. It just wasn’t all the truth. 

“I see.  So you quit your job after you bonded with my son.  I suppose he’s supporting you now.”  Her tone was offended and judgemental. 

John was pretty sure she was trying to get him to admit to being a gold digger but he wasn’t going to play along with that.  ”Not exactly.  I do pay my own bills and will to continue to do so. I also plan to reapply for my job and the administrator in charge of the department has guaranteed a place for me.  Right now, I’m helping Sherlock with some cases….”  
  
”Oh, you mean Sherlock’s little hobby.  I can’t say I approve. He bought you those clothes, didn’t he?”  
  
Sherlock interjected, clearly at the end of his rope. “Mummy, John and I are doing just fine financially. Please…” 

Violet interrupted with a deceptively bright tone. “Darling, now that you’ve begun to use your trust fund, of course you’re doing fine financially.  But you’ve never supported yourself, truly. You quit University and never did get a real job. And I won’t mention the drug use. You’ve always made terrible decisions with your life and it’s time someone made you understand that.”  

She was looking straight at John as she said the last bit and he got the message clearly. He still wasn’t acceptable to her and she obviously considered their bonding another in a long list of poor decisions made by her son. 

Siger looked uncomfortable. “Violet, why don’t you leave the boy alone?”  
  
Violet turned on him like a striking snake. “You are part of the problem. You always indulged Sherlock and you constantly undermined my attempts to be a strict parent with him. He needed a firm hand and you were never there to give it so I had to step in and do the best I could, all by myself.”  John recognised the victim card being played. All of this was sounding very familiar, in a rather horrid way.  
  
Mr Holmes was clearly distressed. “Violet, dear. This is not appropriate conversation at the dinner table.  We can discuss this later.”  
  
”Of course, darling.  When will that be? When you return home next week after your junket tour of the Caribbean with your pretty new assistant?  This is your son’s future we’re discussing. He is your heir and you should have been more involved.  His life decisions have been execrable and if you’d only supported me, we’d not have this problem!”  
  
John was worried by the shade of crimson Siger’s face became as he tried to hold onto his temper.   Finally, the man deflated and refrained from responding to his bond mate. Clearly, there really was nothing he could say that she wouldn’t use to eviscerate him. 

Using very little empathy, John could easily tell that Mr Holmes was hurt and humiliated by his wife’s accusations and it was clear to John that he’d never been unfaithful.  He could also feel Sherlock and Mycroft’s anxiety at the escalation of their mother’s behaviour.  Anthea was trying hard just to stay out of the line of fire and he didn’t blame her a bit. 

John kept his eyes on his plate, staring at the remains of the cake he’d been enjoying. His appetite was completely gone now and he felt queasy. Not sure if it was morning sickness, his anger or just a reaction to the poisonous atmosphere, he swallowed hard.   
  
So much of Mrs Holmes’ behaviour reminded him of his father’s worst before he’d got help. Not to mention Harry, too.  John didn’t know if Mrs Holmes was also an alcoholic but he knew when someone was emotionally abusive.  

Always the victim in her own eyes, Mrs Holmes would not hesitate to use any excuse to verbally gut the ones closest to her when she was angry about something.  It always astonished John how often people would treat their own family members worse than they’d ever treat a complete stranger. 

Clearly Violet had finished with Siger and she turned back to Sherlock.  “So, Sherlock dear, when are you going to quit that inane hobby of yours and take the position your father has obtained for you?”  
  
”What is that meant to mean, Mummy?  It’s my career, not a hobby. I created it and I’m the only consulting alpha sentinel detective in the country, if not the world.”  John could feel Sherlock’s anger and hurt building.  The doctor tried to soothe Sherlock and continued to bite his tongue.  It just wasn’t worth intensifying the argument because Sherlock would inevitably lose. 

“Don’t be tedious, darling. You know what I mean.  You can’t keep chasing villains all over the city and getting injured.  Twenty staples were just taken out of your head the other day, for god’s sake! You’re too old for this behaviour. 

“I say you need to settle down and get a steady job in the government. You’re brilliant and the world needs to know that. Just think of the good you could do in diplomacy or in one of the major departments.  For God’s sake, you could be Prime Minister if you wanted!”

“Mummy, you know I have no interest in that and never have.”  Sherlock’s tone was weary and long suffering.  This was apparently a very sore point and one dead horse that had been beaten too many times.

Her anger flared and exploded.  “All I know is that you’re an ungrateful brat and you need to start behaving responsibly, starting with your bond to this….”  
  
”That is enough!”  John’s voice barked out like the sharp crack of a rifle, surprising everyone, even himself.  He would be damned if he was going to allow her to emotionally bludgeon his bond mate when he could do something about it. 

For the first time he could remember, John lost his grip on his empathy. Before he could regain control completely, he had directed his anger and outrage straight at Mrs Holmes, overwhelming her rudimentary shields and slamming into her mind. Violet blinked in surprise at the empathic slap he gave her but she didn’t seem to realise just what had happened.  Instead, she paled and her eyes widened, then narrowed, shaking off the effects of John’s empathy very quickly. 

“My, my.  The little omega has a backbone. How surprising.”     

John wasn’t going to back down. “You can insult and attempt to humiliate me all you like.  That’s fine because I don’t give a rat’s arse what you think of me.”  Her expression tightened as John lowered his voice to a threatening growl, backing it up with a hard push of his empathy.  
  
”But I do care what you do to my bond mate.   Be careful what you say to him around me because I won’t put up with your abuse of him for one minute more. He hasn’t done anything to deserve this treatment.” 

John stood, looked at everyone at the table except Mrs Holmes and nodded politely.  “My apologies for disrupting your dinner.  I’m done here.  Mr Holmes, thank you and I expect I’ll see you sometime tomorrow. Mycroft, Anthea. Good night.” 

The doctor stepped away from the table, ignoring the silently fuming woman seated to his left, and held out his hand for his alpha.  It hurt him deeply to see his normally confident and self-possessed bond mate gutted by a few well chosen words from his own mother. 

Sherlock hesitated for a moment, then took John’s hand and stood also.  His control was back and his face a cool mask. “Yes, thank you. Goodnight, everyone.  We’ll see you at breakfast. Mummy.”  The detective nodded politely to his mother. Her mouth tightened and she looked away. 

Face pale and head up, Sherlock left with John and went with him to their room, walking stiffly with his mind clearly elsewhere. 


	8. Chapter 8

It wasn’t until they got to their room that Sherlock collapsed and sank into one of the armchairs. John poured him a stiff brandy and made him drink it as he sat across from him in front of the fireplace.  The doctor had trouble following Sherlock’s chaotic feelings, but his predominate emotions were anger and hurt. 

After he swallowed a large gulp of his brandy, the detective finally spoke. John listened as Sherlock poured out his unhappiness.   “I’ve not seen her like this for years.  I thought…. I don’t know what I thought.  That she’d be better? That she’d finally learn to behave herself?” 

He looked up at John beseechingly.  “That’s just the trouble, though.  She knows perfectly well how to behave herself but then she does something like this. I hate being so angry with her. I’m sorry, John. What an introduction to my family.”  Sherlock stared down at the depths of his drink for a moment, then stood and threw the snifter hard against the wall. The crash of the glass made John jump. 

Sherlock spun on his heel and stalked over to the bed, where he threw himself down, turning his back to the room.  John could feel one of his bond mate’s black moods coming on. They were increasingly rare since their bonding but they still happened sometimes. 

John got to his feet and made his way to the bed and took off his shoes, sliding up behind his alpha and putting his arms around him. 

The detective was stiff for a moment and then he relaxed. John pulled him closer and rested his forehead against the back of his alpha’s neck.   He then projected all his unconditional love and acceptance toward his sentinel. 

Sherlock sighed and it was a very sad sound. “The worst part is that what she said was correct, John.  I’ve made nothing but terrible decisions my whole life and now I’ve made a hash of this.”  
  
John gasped involuntarily at the sharp stab of hurt that statement caused.  Galvanized by his bond mate’s reaction, Sherlock quickly turned around and embraced the stunned guide. 

“I’m so sorry! I said that completely wrong. You should know I wasn’t referring to you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I should be on my knees thanking you every day for putting up with me.” 

John hugged back and kissed Sherlock’s neck.  “There was never a question about putting up with you. Once I’d met you I was lost. It would have killed me to leave you or have anyone take you from me.” 

The detective held on tighter. “Thank you, John.  And I’m so sorry about how Mummy treated you.” 

“It’s not your fault, luv. I’m rather familiar with all this craziness. I’ll have to tell you about some of the knock-down-drag-outs I had with my father before he died and with Harry. It’s difficult to deal with this kind of thing when it’s a close family member who is being abusive.  You are not responsible for her bad behaviour. 

“We knew from the get-go that she was angry with the both of us for bonding without her consent.  She’s upset so she’s trying to hurt you for hurting her. Mycroft warned me of her possible bad behaviour so I’m not really too surprised by it. I’m just sorry she said those things to you. 

“I may object loudly to body parts in the fridge, especially after our child is born, but I’ll always love you no matter what.”  
  
John couldn’t see Sherlock’s smile, but could feel it. Sherlock huffed out a laugh.  “I love you too. And I’ll see about moving the body parts before our child arrives.”  He drew the doctor up into his arms, resting their foreheads together. John moved his head up just enough to kiss Sherlock, tasting the brandy in his mouth. 

“We have a big day tomorrow and I want to stay out of your mother’s sight as much as possible.  Maybe you can take me to the village your mother mentioned.”  
  
“It’s a deal, though I believe it will likely take longer to get to the village than to tour it.”  It was apparent that Sherlock was still feeling upset, but John had successfully diverted his black mood for the time being.  

Smiling, he thought of a way to dispel the black mood completely and he could take advantage of his raging hormones at the same time. Waggling his eyebrows and speaking in an exaggerated whisper, he said, “You can always make love to me, you know. In your parent’s house, no less. There’s a rather nice white noise machine we could turn on and they’d never know.”  
  
”What’s the point of being naughty in your parent’s home if they don’t know about it?” Sherlock teased back and began to unbutton John’s cardigan.  They’d not made love for a few days and they were both more than ready. 

Before he knew it, John was naked and stretched out in the centre of the huge bed with an equally naked Sherlock on top, kissing him tenderly.  Sherlock slowly kissed his way down to John’s stomach and stopped at his abdomen. 

“I can’t believe our child is growing in here.” He placed a kiss on John’s belly in awe and not with any intent to arouse.  Sherlock then pressed the side of his face against John’s stomach. 

Heart melting with love for Sherlock and their child, John reached down and stroked his hands through his alpha’s hair, feeling the large scar on his bond mate’s scalp where the staples had recently been removed.  The reminder of how scared he’d been when Sherlock had been injured made him clutch his alpha close for a moment. 

Finally letting the image go, he relaxed and whispered. “Can you hear a heartbeat yet?”  
  
Sherlock listened intently to John’s tummy but then lifted his head and shook it sadly. “No, nothing yet.  I can certainly hear your heartbeat though.  It’s the most beautiful music in the world to me.” 

Experiencing a surge of emotion too great to allow for speech, John pulled Sherlock up and kissed him deeply. They cuddled for a while, just holding each other tightly, both overcome with strange new feelings of closeness.  After a while, Sherlock kissed John’s ear, ran his hand down his front and stroked up his shaft lightly. 

“What do you want tonight, John?  You always want to please me. As your alpha, I need to take care of you and please you, too.  Tell me what you want me to do.”  His voice deepened. “Do you want to come inside me?”  
  
John’s body reacted strongly to that and Sherlock laughed as he stroked the doctor again. “I’m taking that as a definite yes!”   
  
”That’s a yes, all right, but we don’t have anything here for you to use and both of us are strung tight as piano wire. We’ll try it another time, though?”  
  
Sherlock agreed. “When we get home then we’ll do that. So tell me. What do you want?”  Sherlock was nipping and licking his way down John’s neck to the base of his throat.  John loved that and Sherlock took advantage.

John gripped the headboard in both hands. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. My nipples have got so sensitive lately.” 

Sherlock took that moment to inspect them closely and gave them each a wet kiss, making John arch upwards.  “They’re getting larger, too.  I can see a difference.” He kissed them again and looked expectantly at John, who was trying to glare at him without going cross-eyed. 

“As I was saying.  My nipples are very sensitive and what I’d like is for you to suck them while you make me come with your hand.  Then I want you to turn me over and fuck me as hard as you can.”   
  
Sherlock moved up and kissed him. “I can do that. Shall I start now?” 

John took a moment to lightly slap the back of Sherlock’s head but responded politely. “Yes, you git. Please do.” 

Sherlock laughed. “It’s not going to take us long. It’s been a few days since we did this.” John didn’t bother to answer as Sherlock continued to stroke John with one hand.  The detective reached down with the other, carefully inserted two fingers into John’s wet entrance and pushed in and out a few times. This made John groan and press himself onto Sherlock’s hand as he clutched frantically at the headboard.  

Taking the copious moisture onto his fingers, Sherlock rubbed it sensuously on John’s nipples, making them swell and harden as the omega’s breath caught in a gasp.  In his impossibly deep voice, Sherlock muttered, “Gorgeous,” just before he lowered his head, took a nipple into his mouth and sucked.  

John just about came up off the bed at the throbbing sensation of arousal rocketing through his body, down to his penis and womb.  He moaned in ecstasy, trying to push his chest further into Sherlock’s mouth.  The alpha moved to John’s other breast and sucked harder this time, flicking the nipple with his tongue. John approved rather vocally.  “Yes, yes…that’s it. Right there, ohhh…yes!”  
  
The alpha’s hand sped up on his shaft and twisted the stroke at the head, gathering the pre-come and liberally spreading it down and around.  He alternated nipples and sucked hard, causing them to redden and swell even more.  John’s head tossed back and forth as he became more incoherent the closer Sherlock brought him to orgasm. 

Sherlock stroked John’s shaft faster and then sucked harder on his nipples as John’s body exploded in an intense orgasm.  

Sherlock caught all the ejaculate in his hand and, as John watched, rubbed the semen all over his own penis. The sight of it sent a jolt of arousal through John’s exhausted member, making it jump despite just having come. Sherlock smirked, and urged John to turn over.   
  
John was a limp, sweaty mess but obliged his alpha and braced himself.   Sherlock lifted the omega’s hips and spread his buttocks wide, then shoved home hard with a grunt.  John was glad he’d held onto the headboard because the strength of the thrust would have driven him headfirst into it. 

Sherlock did exactly as John had asked and pounded into him. John loved the feel of Sherlock moving deep inside him, stretching him wide and giving him so much pleasure. Tightening his internal muscles made Sherlock growl and thrust harder and faster. The rapid pace the sentinel set rocked John roughly on the bed, rubbing his sensitised nipples against the mattress. He began to get hard again, but didn’t ask Sherlock to stroke him, wanting to hold off to make it last for a second round.  

All too soon, Sherlock was groaning and emptying himself inside John.  The sentinel pushed in a few more times as he finished ejaculating and finally let go of John’s hips so they could both sink down to the mattress. Sherlock was still slightly hard and stayed inside John as he collapsed on top of his omega.  

Sherlock was heavy but supported enough of his own weight so that it wasn’t uncomfortable for the doctor.  John relaxed completely with Sherlock draped over him, sweaty and still breathing hard. 

John’s penis was trapped between his body and the bed, but he didn’t mind in the least.  The interesting feeling of his alpha still inside him was enough to keep him from falling asleep while Sherlock dozed briefly.  

Curiously, John tightened his muscles around the semi-soft member and felt a throb.  Sherlock grunted in his ear and pushed himself in deeper. It was exciting, so John squeezed him again. He got another response and was fascinated that he could feel Sherlock’s penis thickening and growing inside him.  The sensation made him writhe and moan, waking his alpha who immediately began to rock back and forth. 

After a few moments, Sherlock started to talk dirty. “I love being inside you, John.” Sherlock’s throaty voice caused a shiver to run down the omega’s spine. “Especially after I’ve come inside you a few times. It’s like sinking into warm cream or honey, you’re so full of my come.  It oozes out as I thrust and I love seeing it smeared all over your hole and my shaft. You smell delicious, too. You smell and taste like the both of us. Ohhh, John…you feel so amazing!” He leaned over John’s back, breathed deeply and licked up his spine as he continued to push in deep. 

Dirty talk had never interested John before Sherlock.  But the earthiness of the sentinel was contagious. His words and tone always increased John’s arousal whereas with others it has left him repulsed.  

Though he’d had his fair share of lovers in his life, John had never allowed anyone else to take him this way. Only Sherlock had ever been permitted this. John was moaning it over and over as his alpha ploughed hard into him.  

The room also had acquired a blue tint and the strange double vision that had occurred during their bonding suddenly returned, surprising John.  They’d only experienced it a few times since their initial bonding as sentinel and guide.  

Sherlock sat back, staring at where their bodies joined.  “Mine. Only mine. Say no one else has ever had you!”  Sherlock growled and started pump into John even faster. 

John grunted and held on. “Yes, yours only! No one else has ever had me like this. Only you, Sherlock!” 

That seemed to satisfy the alpha sentinel in Sherlock, who went back to fucking him hard.   The double vision was disorienting at first and then John could feel the slickness of his own body from Sherlock’s point of view as the alpha thrust in and at the same time feel his body stretching wide to accept the invading flesh.  

He could also watch through his alpha’ eyes as Sherlock slid in and out and hear the sounds of flesh slapping together.  Then they were one completely and their arousal seemed to multiply on a logarithmic rate. Nothing but pleasure and love remained as they finally finished together and collapsed. 

They lay on their sides, still joined and sweaty, breathing hard and enjoying the electric sparks jumping through them as they came down gradually from what had been some of the best sex they’d yet had as a bonded couple. 

Sherlock kissed the nape of John’s neck. “Maybe I should argue with my mother more often.  That was incredible.” 

John snorted laughter helplessly and then mourned a little as Sherlock slid out of him.   

Turning so that they were face to face, John pulled the covers over them and took Sherlock’s hands in his. “Your mother never had any real intention of accepting me, Sherlock.  She came here earlier today when she sent you into the village and made her intentions very clear.  She was hoping for a weak little omega who would bend to her whims and she found the opposite. Now she’s going to do everything she can think of to try to turn you away from me.   

“I committed an unforgivable offence when I stood up to her then and also at dinner. She didn’t care for that at all and she’s likely re-evaluating her approach. Until she’s figured it out, I suspect she’ll avoid me for now.  I just don’t want you to be blindsided again. I know she hurt you.” 

Sherlock’s mouth tightened into an unhappy grimace and he looked away. “I shouldn’t have let her get to me like that. And I shouldn’t have let her say those things to you.” 

“Sherlock, it’s fine. Mums do things like that and you never become immune to it. When she treats you like a child all you can do is call her on her behaviour and refuse to participate in it. Which is what happened.”  

“But she was unforgivably rude to you.”  
  
John shrugged. “She’s my mother-in-law and very unhappy about it. As far as I’m concerned she can sod off. Eventually, she’ll get over it or not.  I’m not going to worry about it now and we should get some sleep.  We’ve got a busy day tomorrow, avoiding your mum.” Sherlock snorted with laughter at that and both finally drifted off. 

Breakfast the next day was somewhat awkward at first. Thankfully Mrs Holmes was not present, claiming to be suffering from a headache apparently.  John was pretty sure she was hung-over.  Mr Holmes, Mycroft and Anthea were tense at first but finally relaxed when they realised John did not blame them for Violet’s poor behaviour of the previous evening.  

Mr Holmes spoke up finally. “I just want to say how sorry I am that Violet was so rude to you, John.”

Before he could continue, John held up a hand. “Please, sir. What happened was not your fault.” 

“Still, I feel that I was somehow responsible for not controlling her behaviour.”  
  
Mycroft joined in. “Father, you know that there was nothing you could have said that would change anything.  Mummy is not going to forgive John for bonding with Sherlock against her express wishes.  But as we all know, she’ll eventually come to accept the inevitable.” 

There wasn’t much to say after that and they all went their separate ways after breakfast.  Mr Holmes stopped John and Sherlock before they left, however. 

“I have to leave before lunch to go out of the country for work. John, Sherlock, I wanted to say congratulations and express just how very pleased I am for you both.  You seem to be perfect for each other and I am proud to have you in the family, John.” He smiled at the doctor and shook his hand.  

Turning to Sherlock, Siger held out his hand, as well. “Son, I want you to know that I have never been so proud of you. You’ve truly grown up and have taken responsibility for your life.   Take good care of him.” He actually pulled Sherlock into a brief hug, much to the detective’s shock.  Without another word, he left them standing in the dining room. 

John knew well enough not to say anything.  He could feel some of what his bond mate was feeling and he didn’t want to interrupt. After a moment, Sherlock shook himself and turned to John.  “The car should be out front. Let’s get our coats and get out of here.”  
  
Unfortunately, Sherlock had been correct about the village. It was tiny, had very little of interest and the residents had not done much in the way of seasonal decorations.  It had snowed just enough that the grassy areas were covered but the streets and pavement were slushy and wet.  They stopped to have lunch in a small restaurant and found a used bookstore but that was the extent of the entertainment.  However, their visit served the purpose of killing an entire afternoon before they had to return to the house for the party.  

 

 

 

______________________________________________________________

 

John could hear the doorbell ring again as he bent to pull up his trousers and fasten them over his dress shirt. He hated that he was so nervous and his fingers shook slightly as he buttoned the shirt. Surprisingly, he had to tug a bit at the waist to get the button to fasten.  He’d not been able to eat much lately because of his afternoon ‘morning’ sickness and had actually been losing some weight.  It was much too early for his stomach to start expanding so it must be gas or something equally as delightful. 

After wrestling with the trousers for a moment, he got them fastened, put on his tie and shrugged into the dinner jacket, buttoning it across his still flat middle.  As he looked at himself critically in the mirror, John admired the cut of the suit and smiled. Fancifully, he decided he looked almost as dashing as James Bond.  Snorting with amusement at that thought of plain, average John Watson looking like the infamous MI6 agent, the turned around to face the door.  He supposed it was now time for the dog and pony show.  He just hoped he didn’t embarrass Sherlock.  

Sherlock took that very moment to sweep into the room from the hallway, startling John from his mental musings.  He took one look at John and stopped dead.

”If we weren’t in my parent’s home with ninety or more of their friends and assorted guests downstairs, I’d ravish you right now, John Watson.  You look positively edible in that suit.”  

The alpha growled that last statement as he literally stalked toward John and circled him.  “It’s gorgeous and so are you. I cannot wait to have more suits made especially for you.”  Sherlock ended up facing John, cupped his face in both hands and leaned down for a quick, but passionate kiss. 

Stealing another tender kiss from his alpha, John blushed at the praise. “You’re the gorgeous one, Sherlock.  No one can compare to you.  Just now looking at myself in the mirror, I was thinking of the saying about sow’s ears and silk purses.”  
  
Sherlock huffed a laugh. “Not hardly.  I believe you were thinking about James Bond just a moment ago.”  John’s blush darkened in embarrassment but he couldn’t help laughing that Sherlock had, once more, read his mind.   
  
The alpha was suddenly serious.  “I don’t want to hear you comparing yourself to a sow’s ear, John.  You are a very handsome and desirable omega and you’re mine.  I don’t want anyone insulting what’s mine.” Sherlock was using his most post accent and John couldn’t help but snigger. 

“Okay, luv. No more of that.  I suppose it’s show time, right?”  
  
”Yes, you are correct.  Don’t be surprised if Mummy drags me away from you at times but I’ll be close by if you get trapped.  Just excuse yourself and come find me or I’ll find you.  No one will think twice about that in this company.”  Sherlock sounded somewhat sour about it all.

”Do you know any of these people, Sherlock?  You said they were your parent’s friends. Did your mother not invite any of your friends?” 

“There are some people here that are acquaintances but none of them are my friends and many of them, while not openly hostile, are not well disposed toward us.  However, I’ll be sure to avoid those people when I introduce you.” 

The party was going full tilt as they made their way down the stairs and quietly slipped into the crowd.  The house was brightly lit and cheerfully decorated to reflect the holiday season.  John could hear music and saw that there was a live quartet quietly playing seasonal tunes off in one corner.  

The two huge front rooms were full of beautifully dressed men and women of all genders and ages.  Violet had outdone herself with the caterers and holiday décor. John could see her sailing amongst her guests, laughing, drinking and being completely scintillating.  The doctor made a mental note to be sure to stay out of her sight as much as possible.  

Sherlock snagged flutes of champagne for John and himself from a passing waiter and they began to circulate, trying to avoid Mummy until the last possible moment.  Sherlock was clearly a master at this and John followed his lead willingly.  He spotted Mycroft with Anthea in the hall but they were deep in conversation with an older man.  Hopefully they’d cross paths later in the evening and they’d get a chance to chat. In the meantime, he thought he spotted a few celebrities and a couple of politicians he’d seen on the telly.   
  
Sherlock smiled and serenely greeted people who clearly knew him. It didn’t take very long for John to realise that Sherlock was carefully choosing the people he introduced John to at first. With each congratulatory handshake, John could tell that they were all basically good people who were sincerely happy for Sherlock and were very pleased to meet John.   Heartened by this, John began to enjoy himself.  

They moved slowly through the two front rooms, meeting and greeting numerous people who approved of their bond and were thrilled to meet John.  He was having a fabulous time and actually got to meet a rock star he’d admired for years.  For some reason, Sherlock kept steering him away from politicians, though.  

After an hour and a half of chatting with complete strangers and enjoying himself immensely, Sherlock led John over to the bar where he got the omega a Perrier. “Is your stomach upset, John?” Sherlock murmured into his ear as he gave John the water. 

The doctor nodded. “Yes, unfortunately.  There’s a lot of seafood in the hors d'oeuvres and the smell is a bit much for my stomach right now.  The water will help. If you can find some digestives for me, that should also help settle things.” He smiled up at Sherlock, who nodded and headed for the kitchen.

John was very good at making himself blend into the background and it required very little energy to use his empathy to make himself less noticeable.  He’d done it all his life and it was easy compared to making himself completely invisible as he’d done in the train station all those weeks ago.  

A wave of tiredness washed over him, however, and he headed for an empty chair in the corner to sit and rest for a bit.  He had to slip behind a group of younger people to get to the chair to sit down.  

In a few moments, Sherlock returned to the room, spotted him right away and brought him a plate with some plain digestive biscuits.  They were just what John needed and he nibbled one while Sherlock hovered. 

“Go circulate, Sherlock.  I think your mother is looking for you.” John had spotted Violet pushing her way through the crowd, drink in hand, with her head up and clearly searching for something. Just then she spied Sherlock and marched up to them. She looked positively amazing in her designer dress and she was getting a lot of attention from the other alphas in the room.  

As expected, she ignored John completely and spoke cajolingly to her son.  “Darling, George Smyth-Worthington wants to meet you.  He’s a very prominent alpha in the current administration and Mycroft is speaking with him right now.”  She took his arm and Sherlock had to go with her or make a scene.  

John grinned at his bond mate’s consternation and gave him a tiny wave with his fingers as Mummy continued to pull at her son’s arm in an undignified manner.   Sherlock rolled his eyes and left the room with his mother.

The digestives and carbonated water did their magic and John felt somewhat better. He idly scanned the crowd with his empathy and frowned when he sensed some malicious intent directed toward him.  Whoever it was didn’t mean to hurt him physically but he could tell that they did intend to be cruel to him for purposes of their own amusement.   He searched the crowd surreptitiously and discovered the nastiness was coming from the group of young people standing not far away. 

Looking closer, he realised three of the five in the group were omegas and he recognised all of them from the photos sent to the flat by Sherlock’s mother.  These three had been his competition for Sherlock and now they all knew who he was. That certainly explained a lot. 

They didn’t seem to know that he was aware of their inspection, so he kept his eyes away from them and sat back further in his chair, slowly sipping his water. They were whispering to each other and occasionally shooting brief glances his way but speaking loudly enough to be sure he overheard them. 

John planned to ignore them.  They were young, spoiled and overly entitled brats and they were planning to try to humiliate him somehow.  Even though he hadn’t wanted to attend the party, John hoped they wouldn’t try to create a scene in an attempt to embarrass him or Sherlock’s family. He would do his best to diffuse any such attempts. 

The tall male beta started it off.  He reached out and touched the arm of the vapidly beautiful blonde omega that John had recognised from one of the photos.  “That was Sherlock Holmes here just a moment ago, Debra. Did you see him?  He’s drop dead gorgeous! It’s  _such_  a shame he didn’t bond with you. I heard that his mother had you picked out for him. Just think of the pretty babies you would have had. It’s such a shame he bonded with that other omega.”  

The female beta’s voice chimed in at an exaggerated whisper, though it was still very audible to everyone surrounding them.  “Have you seen the omega he actually bonded with? I hear he’s ugly. Georgina said she saw him earlier and he was old, too.  He must have tricked Sherlock into bonding with him by enticing him during his heat. That’s the only reason I could see that anyone could choose him over you, Debra.” 

The blonde omega preened and then sniffed derisively. “I did hear from Seb that he deceived Sherlock. They were flatmates and no one knew he was an omega until he went into heat. No real alpha can resist when faced with an omega in heat, but it was outrageous that they bonded.  It makes no sense so he must have tricked Sherlock.  Lady Holmes told me she’d try to see if Sherlock would consent to have the bond broken and arrange to have him bond with me instead. She’s ashamed of her son choice and wants that omega gone.”  John raised his eyebrows in surprise at hearing this and wondered if it was true that Mrs Holmes was going to ask Sherlock to break their bond.  He certainly wouldn’t put it past her. 

The red haired omega piped up.  “Well, Charles told me he has no money, no sense of fashion and is from a very low class background.  Someone else told me he’s a nurse’s aid or something, if you can believe that! He actually has a job!  I expect he drugged Sherlock and now he’ll be stuck with an inferior omega if they can’t break the bond.” 

John covered his mouth with his hand to keep from laughing out loud.  This was worse than being in secondary school again.  Though he was trying hard not to smile at their moronic attempts to upset him, he found he was getting somewhat angry at the suggestions that he’d drug or trick Sherlock in order to bond with him.  Those were actually very serious charges and could land an omega in jail if they were found to be true. 

It was clear that lies and rumours were being spread freely and he wondered where they were originating. Could it be Mrs Holmes was the source of these lies?  It was possible but it didn’t really seem to be her style. 

Observing all the other guests who were inadvertently listening in on the conversation, it seemed they felt pretty much the way he did about it all.  It was time to leave the room before he said something he’d regret and help create the scene he was trying to avoid.  Sherlock must need a rescue from Mr Smyth-Whatever by this time, anyway. 

He stood gracefully and took the few steps necessary to slip around their group, wearing his most harmless and bland smile.  However, at that same moment, the young male beta stepped backward in a clumsy but deliberate attempt to trip John, trying to make it look like an accident.  

The boy’s body language telegraphed his intentions and John evaded him easily.  The young beta, having expected to bump into the doctor, ended up falling awkwardly on his arse. His glass of wine flew down the front of the red haired omega’s bosom.  She yelped in an undignified manner as the cold liquid hit her breasts and she flapped her hands in distress.  

“My dress! My new dress! It’s ruined!” she cried loudly.  

John suppressed a smile as he left the room and headed toward the back of the house, ignoring the raised and indignant voices behind him. He could see Sherlock was looking bored at the conversation with Mr Smyth-Whatisit and John moved toward them only to get a violent glare from Mrs Holmes. It was clear he wasn’t wanted. 

Veering away from the group, he decided to take a few minutes to explore.  He’d not seen anything on the first floor but the two front rooms and the dining room and wanted to see the rest of the house.  He wandered slowly down the hallway and passed numerous doors. One room was a large library where smaller groups of guests had gathered to have more intimate conversations.  There was a study and another smaller parlour as well. 

Finally, he reached the end of the hallway which terminated in two large doors that were open, leading into an honest-to-god conservatory.  He’d never seen one before and John was awed at the size and beauty of the place.   The dimly lit room was octagonal in shape and all the outside walls were glass. 

The floor was made of decorative tile that spiralled in a complicated Greek key pattern toward the centre of the room. Fairy lights had been strung along the walls and in the dense foliage that filled the large space.  The air had a very warm, moist, earthy smell and John could hear the musical sound of water splashing quietly somewhere in the room.      
  
John couldn’t help but fill his lungs with the wonderful scents of healthy growing things.  He was delighted at his find and wondered how it would look in day light.  Illumination was low in the room but bright enough so he could see where he was going.  

Listening for the sound of the falling water, John made his way around the room and found a pathway in the foliage that led to a small fountain cleverly hidden in the centre of the room.  It was constructed of the same tile used in the floor and was circular in shape. The water he had heard was falling from a jar held by a nude winged putto carved in white marble, placed in the centre of the fountain.  There were padded wrought iron benches and chairs surrounding it.  No one was about so John sat down, surrounded by nothing but plants and sighed in delight.   

The atmosphere was very peaceful and John felt himself relaxing almost immediately.  He was surprised at how tense he’d become in just a short time but he shouldn’t have been, considering all that had been going on with Sherlock’s family, especially his mother.  Thankfully, they would be able to leave to go home the next day, so he just had to get through the next few hours and they could leave.  

Thinking about the case, he had hopes that they were finally going to make some progress.  Next week they should be able to follow up on the owners of the warehouses.  They simply had to find something.  In all the time he’d worked with Sherlock, this case was one of the most frustrating John remembered ever being involved with. 

Their methodical plodding through all the useless information was wearing on them both and it seemed that the actual clues they did have were ones they’d literally stumbled over.  This case was so different to the ones Sherlock had solved before and the slogging through paperwork, though it was an important part of the process, was getting seriously old. 

However, they couldn’t start this new angle until they got back to the flat. In the meantime, the bench was amazingly comfortable and John sat back, closed his eyes and visualised all the tension radiating away from him as he listened to the music of the fountain.  It was a relaxation technique he’d used in the past to reduce stress and it often worked.  The environment helped and he felt much better in a short time.  

His little island of serenity was rudely interrupted, however, when heard the scuff of fine leather shoes on the tile and someone clearing his throat. Opening his eyes quickly and sitting up, he saw another person standing in the darkness at the entrance to the fountain area. The man was tall and he thought it was Mycroft for a moment, but then recognised Sebastian Wilkes when he stepped forward into the light.  

Somehow John wasn’t surprised to see him at this party.  It made sense that Mrs Holmes would invite someone like Wilkes.  He went to university with Sherlock, was from a wealthy family, very successful and the kind of person she would admire. No doubt she hoped that Sherlock would aspire to emulate him. If that were true, the woman was more deluded than he ever imagined.  

Wilkes had a smug expression on his face as the alpha sentinel came forward and held out his hand.  John’s lips tightened in dislike but he stood and shook out of politeness. “John Watson! How very nice to see you again. How have you been?”

The man was a smarmy wanker and the smile Wilkes gave John was exactly as he remembered from that day at the bank: superior and completely dismissive of John.  His handshake revealed to John just how the man felt.  Wilkes now radiated a kind of fascinated disgust toward John and wanted nothing more than to express his distaste of his bond with Sherlock.  There was also an undercurrent of another emotion but it was well covered by the others and John didn’t have time to decipher it. 

“I’m fine, thank you.” John surreptitiously wiped his hand off on his trouser leg as he sat down again, wondering the true reason why Wilkes had sought him out. 

Wilkes’ smile widened. ”You look marvellous in that suit. I’m guessing Sherlock chose it for you.  I’m delighted to see you again. I ran into your Sherlock briefly tonight but you had disappeared. Why aren’t you with him? Not trouble in paradise already?”  The man’s grin revealed his crooked teeth and John had to look away from the unpleasant sight. 

“No, I just was exploring and found this fountain.  It’s rather nice here and I thought I’d take a break before heading back to the party.”  He gave Wilkes a half smile. “So how’s business? Bank keeping you busy?” That subject should be safe but there was something odd and off about all this. 

The alpha sat himself down on the bench beside John and sighed. Straightening his cuffs, he replied, “Well, what with the economy, things are a bit slow.  But business will eventually pick up, I’m certain of it.”  The alpha turned toward John, who frowned and shifted away. 

“I’m terribly sorry, John. Am I making you uncomfortable? You must know that I would never poach on Sherlock’s territory.” 

Smiling, the hateful man crossed his legs and sat back, putting his arm across the top of the bench, nearly touching John.  He was too close to the doctor, who scowled at him even more. 

Wilkes continued on blithely, staring at the fountain absently. “It’s hard to believe that Sherlock has finally bonded. He was the last alpha I would have expected to get shackled. When we were in Uni, Sherlock wasn’t exactly popular.” He turned his face toward John. “You remember I told you how he used to do that trick of his on us and we all hated him for it.”  

John said tightly. “I remember all too well.” 

Wilkes smirked at him, turned back to the fountain and shrugged. “Well, another reason we all hated him was that he is such an alpha, you know?   I hate to admit it, but he was more of an alpha than any of us and all the omegas were positively drooling over him. None of the rest of us had a bloody chance with them when Sherlock was around.”  He turned to John again and scooted closer.  “He had his choice of the most beautiful and intelligent omegas around and he never once looked their way. 

“I wanted to talk to you because when I first met you, you were a beta. Now you’re an omega.  Frankly, I was rather surprised to hear you were concealing your gender and that you had somehow managed to snag our Sherlock into a bond. After all these years, he bonds with you, of all omegas.” The last was said in almost complete disbelief and Wilkes barked out a derisive laugh. 

He leaned closer to John.  “So, naturally I was wondering. Did you deliberately go off your meds and he couldn’t resist you? Not very sporting of you, I must say. Alphas have very little defence against an omega in heat. Makes me think you were trying to trap him into bonding when he was most vulnerable.  He is very wealthy, after all and I know you have nothing, so it makes sense you’d want him.”  John felt his blood pressure start to rise. Did this man know how offensive he was being?   Of course he did. Wilkes was a complete pillock. 

“What’s between me and Sherlock is absolutely none of your business.” Gritting his teeth, John counted to ten so he wouldn’t break the man’s nose.  He didn’t know where Wilkes was going with this aside from just doing his best to be a bloody tosser. He didn’t want to get into a punch-up with this git because Wilkes would end up in hospital and it might embarrass Sherlock. But John was sorely tempted. 

Thankfully, the man sat back, looking at John as if he were some kind of bug he’d just stepped on.  “What is it about you that made him actually bond with you? I’d love to know.”   

When John didn’t answer, the man leaned forward again, put a hand on John’s knee and leered. “You must be bloody good in bed, then.” 

“Right. That’s it.  I’m out of here.” John stood and headed for the exit.  As he passed the alpha, Wilkes stood up and grabbed for his bad shoulder.  “Now wait a moment you….” Wilkes began to say but didn’t get the chance to finish. 

John, ever the soldier, reacted instinctively.  In the blink of an eye, John’s right hand snapped up to his left shoulder, grabbed Wilkes’ right wrist where the man had gripped him and twisted it forward off his shoulder while he brought his left arm up around the top of the other man’s elbow and pressed down hard. 

Wilkes gasped in agony and bent forward at the waist as John effortlessly applied pressure on the bones of his wrist and elbow, painfully bending them in a direction they were never designed to go.  

The doctor spoke quietly but intensely into Wilkes’ ear. “Don’t  ** _ever_**  touch me again or I’ll break your arm.”   He twisted his hold just a bit more to make his point.  The man squeaked and his knees failed.  Wilkes sank to the tiles as John released him and stepped back.   

“I know now you’re the one who has been spreading rumours about us. About how I deceived Sherlock and trapped him into bonding. The one where I supposedly drugged him is actually rather inventive.  I just want you to know that if I hear anything like that again, I’m coming for you.  And next time you’ll get what you deserve.” John spun on his heel and stalked to the door of the greenhouse.

To his surprise, he heard Wilkes start to laugh.  John turned back to frown at the man as the alpha sentinel sat cradling his sprained wrist against his chest. 

“You like hurting people, don’t you, John, for all that you’re an omega. But you’re the one who’ll get what he deserves.”  
  
Angry and confused, John growled, “What the fuck are you talking about now, Wilkes?”   
  
The other man sneered as he got up, still holding his wrist. “You’ll see soon enough, you bastard.  Just you wait. I’ve made sure of it.”  John tried to use his empathy to find out what Wilkes meant,  but recoiled at the ugly and hateful emotions he encountered.  
  
Giving it up as a lost cause, the doctor turned his back on the man and left the conservatory. Sherlock met him in the hallway near the library.  “What’s happened? You’re furious.”  
  
John didn’t look at his sentinel but pulled him into the library. No one was in there and he shut the door. “Sebastian Wilkes is what happened.  The bastard insulted me and suggested that I tricked you into bonding with me.  Apparently he’s also been spreading rumours to that effect. I heard something similar from the omegas in the front parlour earlier and wondered where they’d heard it.  Now I know.”  
  
Sherlock was livid.  “I knew he was here, but I never imagined he would bother you or try to spread lies. I’m sorry, John.”  
  
”It’s not your fault.  You didn’t invite him but I doubt your mother would have done if she really knew what kind of person he is.” 

Sherlock was still angry. “Do you want me to say something to him?”  
  
John shook his head and gave Sherlock a nasty smirk. “I seriously doubt that sod will bother me again.  He’s nursing a sprained wrist at the moment.” Sherlock barked out involuntarily laugh and put his arm around John’s waist, leading him out of the library and back to the party. 

“I should have known better than to even suggest to intercede on your behalf.  You never fail to take care of a situation like that.  I’m proud of you and look forward to seeing Sebastian’s face if he dares to show it.” Sherlock gave John a kiss on the temple as they returned to the main room, making sure everyone there saw them. 

Sherlock’s mother spotted him right away and came up on him again. “There you are, darling.  You simply must meet Lady Delawar and her daughter.  She's an omega, you know.”  As before, Violet ignored John and hauled Sherlock away.  This time the alpha was less willing to be separated and looked back at John, who sighed in resignation and waved him on. It was best to keep her Ladyship happy and not cause any trouble.   
  
He was getting tired anyway and the tension was back because of his encounter with Wilkes. His nausea was also returning and he briefly considered heading up to their room but spotted a free chair in a corner and made for it instead.  The crowd of guests seemed to be thinning somewhat and he tried to relax. Closing his eyes, he rubbed at his forehead and pinched the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to stave off an incipient headache. 

Unfortunately, as soon as he opened his eyes again, he saw the group of young people he had encountered earlier bearing down on him.

”There you are! It’s your fault, you horrible man! You tripped Brian on purpose! You owe me a dress.” The ginger haired omega who had been splashed with wine jabbed an accusing finger at John.  The doctor was too tired to deal with these overly entitled brats and going back to his room sounded like a very good idea right then.

Wearily, John shook his head and stood up. “I did no such thing. He was clumsy and if anyone owes you a dress, it’s your Brian. Now if you’ll excuse me….” 

Debra, the blonde omega John had seen earlier, sneered at him, face ugly with hate. “They were right about you. You’re low class, old, stupid and ugly.  I can’t image why Sherlock would bond with you and not me.”  She tossed her long hair and sniffed, clearly thinking she’d said something significant and cutting. It was all John could do not to laugh in her pathetic face. 

Sherlock suddenly appeared beside John and looked with absolute loathing over the group of young people.  The blonde omega squeaked and back-pedalled. 

“Sherlock! We weren’t discussing you, honestly. This omega was mistaken….” 

Sherlock’s voice was a low rumble of anger. “Be quiet, you moronic bint.  Save your insipid lies for your idiotic friends. You forget that I am a sentinel and I heard every insulting word you said just now and earlier this evening. So you think you can disparage and offend me and my bond mate in my own house?” 

Sherlock looked at Debra with total contempt.  “I would never have agreed to bond with you even if you hadn’t already slept with all the single alphas in this room and most of the bonded ones as well.” 

There were some gasps in the room at that.  “And you,” he turned from the humiliated Debra to the others and seemed at a loss for words. “You are all too brainless to even bother insulting. Leave this house immediately.”  

The room went deathly quiet.  John raised his eyebrows in amusement at the three omegas and the two betas, faces flame red with mortification at what had just happened. They glanced around at the other guests who were looking at them with varying expressions of outraged shock and aversion. When they realised they would not be getting any support from anyone in the room, they all left together. 

John heaved a sigh of relief when the butler shut the front door behind them and conversation amongst the other guests resumed, though at a lower volume than before the incident.  John was very aware of the other guests shooting glances at them both.  Before he could speak, Violet was beside Sherlock and had grabbed her son by his upper arm. It was clear she was livid. 

Once again, completely disregarding John, she shook Sherlock’s arm violently and spoke in a low, harsh whisper.  “Sherlock, I need you to come into the kitchen with me, please. Now!”  Sherlock’s mother was so angry she nearly hissed at her son. John could see Sherlock’s shoulders straighten as they left the room.   

The doctor followed and stood near the entrance to the kitchen. Both mother and son were visible since the door had been left ajar. Thankfully they were keeping their voices low, so the guests couldn’t hear what was being said. John crossed his arms across his chest and tried to melt into the wall as he listened with resignation as Mummy ripped into her son.  Sherlock was going to be in for it but John had confidence that his bond mate would deal with her.

“It’s just as I thought, Sherlock. As always, you have been utterly irresponsible, bringing that omega home with you.  He’s totally unsuitable for you and your place in society. You saw how the others reacted to him and what he said to them. He provoked those omegas! He injured Sebastian! How could you allow him to embarrass me in my own house?”

“You embarrass yourself by inviting people like that into your home, Mummy. John did nothing wrong. He defended himself from a pack of over privileged twits and from physical assault by Sebastian. You should know that those imbeciles took their cue from your treatment of John. You’ve been incredibly rude to him and ignored him completely all evening. No one has missed that.” Sherlock was unrepentant and John knew that it was clear to Mrs Holmes that she wasn’t getting through to him. 

Her voice was full of frustration and she completely ignored what Sherlock said. “We're not talking about me! You never listen to me!  He’s old and ugly, Sherlock. Frankly he’s hideous. You should have bonded with one of the omegas I’d chosen for you. But you just threw them out of the house!  Now they probably won’t want to come back. They all have very wealthy and influential families that you’ve just insulted.   I’ll do my best to smooth it over but it won’t be easy.” 

Her tone changed from angry to pleading. “One day you will inherit your father’s title and become an earl. You’ll have political responsibilities then and you will need an attractive omega who will be an ornament for you when you’re in London or entertaining at home. Someone who is also well connected in society, who can help bring the right kind of attention to you when you take the position in government we’ve arranged for you. You need someone like that to help you make connections for your future in politics.  

“It’s not too late, darling. Your bond is very new and you can still break it without too much trouble.  In fact I know someone who specialises in that—there’s been new research in synthetic hormone treatments that can make separation easier….” 

Sherlock’s voice was arctic ice and it stopped her rant instantly. “First of all, you’re delusional if you think that I will ever work for the government or involve myself in politics. I leave that to Mycroft who seems to thrive on it.  

“Second, don’t bother to try to smooth over anything with those morons I threw out of here.  They and their families are all a complete waste of oxygen and not worth a bucket of warm piss. 

“Third, I could care less about the inheritance and title, Mummy. You’ve known that for years and the only reason you wanted me to bond with one of the omegas you chose was so you could eventually act as a regent for the estate when Father dies. You want to control the money, the property, my bond mate and any children I might have.  You’re angry because by my bonding with John, your plans have been completely thwarted.  He will stand up to you and never allow you to manipulate him and you hate him for that. 

“And finally, unlike you and Father, Mummy, my bonding with John is not a business arrangement made solely for political, financial and social gain. I have bonded for love and companionship. 

“John is my balance. He is kind, patient, warm and he loves me with all his heart.  I could not find a better match if I searched the entire world over and I will not hear a word against him. If you continue to speak of him in this vein, I will take him and leave this house, never to return.” 

Mrs Holmes gaped at her younger son.  “How can you say such vulgar things to me? It’s that horrible omega’s influence!!  You know I love your father….”  
  
Sherlock laughed scornfully. “I don’t know any such thing. In all the years I lived with you on that dismal estate, I never saw you kiss or even hug my father.  You rarely even hugged me or Mycroft. The only times you and Father were in the house at the same time was when it was expected for family occasions or on holidays when you were forced to put up a united front in front of the relatives. 

“It was Father who got up in the night with me when I had nightmares.  Father read to me at bedtime when he was home. He hugged and kissed me whenever I saw him. But not you. It was never you.” 

As John watched, spellbound, Violet paled and took a step back as Sherlock closed in on her, voice deep and shaking with anger.  “I also know that I would probably never have been born if Father hadn’t threatened you with breaking your bond. I know your bonding contract with him stipulated at least two children.  You know first hand how it must have felt to be threatened with having your bond broken. How you could possibly suggest that to me and John?”  Sherlock’s voice wavered. “How can you be so heartless?” 

Mrs Holmes paled even further and slapped Sherlock hard across the face. Her voice shook. “How dare you!  You can’t know anything about that.  How can you possibly know anything about me and what I went through? How hard it was for me to have children. To be bonded to a stranger!”  She sounded furious and absolutely devastated. Sherlock relented and sighed in misery. 

John’s heart broke at the sadness in Sherlock’s voice.  “You forget who I am and what I am. Or perhaps you simply never bothered to find out, Mummy. I observe and deduce.  It’s what I do best and I deduced what happened from simply being a part of this family. 

“Right now, you seem to be operating under the delusion that I’m a simple-minded, irresponsible child who will bend to your demands to leave the bond mate I choose and career I created to take a boring job in government.   Now that I have an omega of my own, I know what’s really important in life.  My first priority is to John. I’m taking responsibility and making the right decisions for the first time in my life. I will never leave him.” 

She began to protest but he held up his hand.  ”It will be a cold day in hell before I would ever consider breaking my bond with him. You even suggesting it is so offensive I can barely look at you right now. And an overdose of synthetic hormones would never break my bond with him.  Know this now, Mummy. John Watson is also my guide and that bond will only be broken by death.”  
  
Violet gasped in shock at hearing that. “You can’t be serious! You’re lying to me!” 

Sherlock shook his head and continued.  “I am deadly serious. You didn’t know that John is an omega guide, the rarest of genetic combinations in the world, did you? You just assumed he was an omega like yourself. But you are so wrong.” 

Sherlock spoke reverently and with wonder. “He could have chosen anyone, Mummy. The richest and most famous alpha in the entire world could have been his. But he chose me. I’m the luckiest man on the planet and I plan to spend the rest of my life making him understand just how much he means to me.

”Judging by the feelings I’m picking up from him,  John has heard everything you’ve said and I wouldn’t blame him if he wanted to leave this house and never return. You also seem to forget that John will be the one to bear your grandchildren.”

Sherlock turned away from his mother and paced back and forth in front of her a few times then stopped and pointed a finger at her.  “We had expected to make the announcement in a few weeks, but I’ll tell you the news now.  John is expecting our first child. This will be your first grandchild and hopefully one of many.” Mrs Holmes was covering her mouth with a shaking hand at his point, eyes wide.  

“I love you, Mummy. Despite everything, I love you and always will. But if you ever want to see any of your grandchildren, you will behave yourself and get the idea that I could ever discard John out of your head, now and forever. You will accept him as my bonded omega and guide, you will be polite to him or I swear I’ll never see you again.  Now I’m taking John out of here and we’re going home.” 

Sherlock left her speechless in shock as he stormed out of the kitchen. John saw her collapse into one of the chairs in the kitchen and put her face in her hands, shoulders shaking.  

John stopped Sherlock briefly and spoke quietly to him. “Sherlock, she’s crying.” 

Sherlock’s face tightened in unhappiness. “I know and I’m sorry about that. But she’ll be fine. She always is, no matter what.” 

“Just…just wait a moment.” John quietly slipped into the kitchen.  He found a glass and filled it with cool water and walked over to Mrs Holmes, who was watching him warily, face tear stained.  The doctor put the glass down on the table beside her and handed her his handkerchief.  She snatched it and carefully daubed at her face but wouldn’t look him in the eyes. 

Her tone was low but even. “So, John. Are you here to gloat at my humiliation?” 

John frowned in confusion. “No. Why would I want to do that?”  
  
She huffed in a way that was so much like Sherlock that John blinked in surprise. “Well, you’ve won and I’ve lost.”  Something in the way she stated it implied that if the situation was reversed, she’d be celebrating her victory. 

John shook his head. “I didn’t start this little war between us.  That was all your idea.  But I intend to finish it.”  
  
Violet’s expression hardened and she looked down at her hands, crumpling the handkerchief. 

Using his empathy to reinforce his point, John spoke quietly but firmly. “I’ll say this once.  If it were up to me, I’d leave here now and never see you again as long as I live.  But it’s not up to me, is it?  It’s up to you, too.  Think long and seriously about what Sherlock said to you.”

Mrs Holmes covered her face again with her hands as he turned away from her to leave the kitchen.  He could feel that she was struggling with anger at herself for what she had said and that it was finally sinking in that she may have done irreparable harm to her relationship with her son.  But her worst fear was that John might never allow her to see her grandchildren.  

A small part of John pitied her, but what she had done was nearly unforgivable and the doctor wasn’t feeling very generous at the moment.  He wanted this lesson to sink in and sometimes pain was the best way to get across a difficult message.  

John nodded to Mycroft waiting outside the door.  “She’s pretty upset, right now. I’m glad you’re here.  At least she’ll have someone to yell at.” Mycroft snorted a small laugh, gave him a rueful half smile and entered the kitchen, closing the door quietly behind him. 

Sherlock was also waiting. He gathered John to him and swept them both through the parlour and up to the stairs, passing confused guests as they went.  

“Come, John. We’re leaving this madhouse and I don’t blame you if you never want to come back.”  This was completely audible to all assembled.  John looked over his shoulder at the guests, glittering in their holiday finery.  All were gaping at him in varying states of surprise. John wondered if they had heard what went on in the kitchen after all. 

He felt sickened by what Mrs Holmes had said about him. How could she have possibly suggested that they break their bond?  The idea was obscene and made him feel physically ill.  But he was strengthened by the unwavering support he received from Sherlock. It wasn’t like he hadn’t expected that kind of treatment from her, after all.  The home truths Sherlock had told her must have been very hard to hear and John just hoped she actually listened. 

They made their way up the stairs and to the bedroom they’d been given.   Sherlock snatched up their clothes and began to pack quickly.  John helped and they were ready to go in ten minutes.  

“I’ll call for the car now, John. Wrap up warmly, the temperature has got very cold and they’re calling for snow. I’ll have it driven around to the side and we’ll pick it up there.”  Sherlock helped him into his new heavy coat and wrapped the scarf around John’s neck.  He looked into the doctor’s eyes, face sad and regretful. 

“I’m so sorry, John. I had hoped she’d behave better than she did.  There is no excuse for what she said but I want you to know I will never ask you to see her again.”  
  
John cupped Sherlock’s face in both his hands and rose up on his toes to kiss him tenderly. “It’s all right, Sherlock. I understand and you have nothing to apologise for, luv. I knew how she felt about me from the moment I met her. I’m just sorry she disappointed you.  But I have the feeling we’ll be seeing her again all too soon.” 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all of you who have been leaving comments and kudos. I appreciate each and every one. They're very helpful and keep me on track--you guys are the greatest and I cannot thank you enough.

The ride home was mostly silent and they went straight to bed once they’d arrived.  Both felt somewhat shell shocked by what had occurred at Mummy’s party and so the next day was spent quietly doing very little except a few chores around the flat. John tried to relax on the sofa while he rode out his ‘morning sickness’ in the afternoon and Sherlock spent a good while texting back and forth with Mycroft.  

Once he rang off with Mycroft, Sherlock added more wood to the fire, found John an extra blanket and sat down beside him. “Anthea and Mycroft are on their way home. He says Mummy is rather shaken up and regretful about what happened.” 

John put his arms around Sherlock and snuggled against him. It always made him feel better to be in contact with his alpha.  “Well, that’s good. Maybe she actually heard some of what you told her. As far as I’m concerned, the ball’s in her court now.  She’s got to decide if she wants to accept me as your bond mate or not.  Frankly I don’t care what she decides.”  

John’s nausea was cresting and he wasn’t feeling particularly charitable toward Violet at the moment.  But the hope he saw in Sherlock’s face at the possibility that Mummy might change her mind made him bite back any additional negative comments directed at her Ladyship.   

John looked up at Sherlock and smiled at his bond mate. “I liked your father, Sherlock. He’s a very nice person.” 

Sherlock’s smile was soft and he pulled John closer.  “When I was small, he was wonderful with me. Mycroft was off at school and I was alone much of the time. As you can imagine, I was quite the terror normally but I would actually behave for him. I think Mummy was jealous because I’d get so excited and run to Father on the rare occasions that he came home. She would be angry and chastise me for being out of control but I wouldn’t mind her, which always made her even angrier. 

“He wasn’t home often, so it was always special when he arrived. He’d have a small gift for me and a hug and we’d do something together, just the two of us, while he was home.  He’d never be there long enough but that’s how I thought all fathers were.”

John understood that since his father was not only a doctor but had been in the military.  He knew all about absent dads and hugged Sherlock tighter in commiseration. They sat for a while, watching the fire before the melancholy atmosphere eventually drifted away. 

“By the way, Mycroft also tells me he has the list of warehouse owners, but there’s something strange about it. He’s giving it to one of his people to check over for irregularities before he sends it onto us so we have to wait another few days.” 

John sighed.  “That’s fine. We wouldn’t have time to check it out until later anyway and you’re still not cleared for something like that. I’ve got my doctor’s appointment tomorrow morning and I’ll probably be a bit out of it after that with morning sickness. Though I do hope Dr Fulton will give me something for nausea.  I hate this.”  
  
Sherlock gave him a kiss, which made John feel somewhat better.  

“Did I tell you what Wilkes said to me at the party?”  When Sherlock shook his head, John continued.   “He said I liked hurting people and I was going to ‘get what I deserve’.  I wonder what he meant by that?” 

“From what you said, Wilkes was spreading rumours that you were drugging me in order to bond with me.  An accusation like that is pretty serious but he has absolutely no proof and anyone who knows me even a little would completely scoff at that. I’d know if you were trying to drug me, probably before you knew it yourself. I wouldn’t worry too much. He’s always been an idiot and he reinforces that observation every time I see him.” 

John sighed.  “You’re probably right.  I did get the feeling he was planning something, though.  

“By the way, I wanted to thank you for tossing out those omegas. I was having flashbacks to primary school and it was getting ugly.”  
  
Sherlock laughed. “Glad I could oblige.  I still can’t believe Mummy thought any of those people would have been an appropriate bond mate for me.  She must not have met any of them.”  
  
”I think her criteria for choosing an omega for you was young and stupid.  Those omegas certainly fit the bill.  No wonder she hates me.”  
  
Sherlock kissed John’s hair.  “I don’t think she hates you, John.  She can’t control you and I think you scare her.  I can tell you this, though. She certainly respects you.”  
  
”I supposed that’s all I can truly ask for at this point.  I’m sure we’ll work things out. In the meantime, we need to decide what we’re going to do for Christmas.  Do we want to do something here?   My mum has invited us to her house, though. She asked us to let her know one way or another by Wednesday.”  
  
”We can decide by then. I’m too tired to think about anything right now, if you want the truth.” 

“Don’t forget I’ve got the appointment with Dr Fulton tomorrow.  Will you be coming with me?”  John hoped Sherlock would be willing to go with him, but not all alphas wanted to do something like that. 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, John.  I think tonight calls for some crap telly and an early night.”  

 

 

 

 

 

_____________________________________________________________

Monday came all too quickly and John’s appointment was in the morning.  Of course Dr Fulton’s office was on Harley Street.  Parking was impossible in that part of town so they had taken a cab to the building.  They found the office with no trouble.  The reception area looked like a Victorian parlour with gorgeous antique furniture with paintings and prints everywhere. There was a large antique longcase Grandfather clock in the corner that drew John over to it immediately. He’d always had a fascination with them and this one was very old and quite beautiful.   
  
He had to abandon his perusal when Sherlock called him over to the desk.  There were numerous forms to fill out, which he had expected.  Once that was done, they had to wait for a while, all normal procedure, though he could safely say he’d never had the chance to wait in such a stunning doctor’s office.  

Alternately excited and scared, John fidgeted in the comfy armchair he’d chosen.  He was going to be able to meet one of his heroes from med school and Sherlock’s godfather. Not only would he meet Dr Fulton, the most incredible thing was that the famous man had agreed to help bring their child into the world.  John was almost overwhelmed by it all.  Sherlock smiled and rolled his eyes at the doctor as he picked up on John’s nervousness. John looked away with a snort of laughter and immediately felt more relaxed.

In a relatively short period of time, they were called into the back by an omega nurse.  He introduced himself as Rich and was extremely professional. He made John feel comfortable as he took his vitals and then directed them to the exam room where he handed John one of the ubiquitous hospital gowns.  John had always hated them but understood they were designed to keep modesty for the patient with maximum accessibility for the doctor.

Sherlock was just finishing tying the gown up in the back when Dr Fulton came in and greeted them both effusively.  He was a short, round cheerful beta and John found himself relaxing straight away.  John was still in awe of him but the man seemed so down to earth and John’s empathy picked up nothing but good will and kindness.

Shaking Sherlock’s hand warmly with both of his, Dr Fulton seemed extremely pleased to have them both there.  
  
”Sherlock, it’s wonderful to see you again. It’s been too long. Congratulations to you both!  Your mother invited me to your bonding announcement party this past weekend but I was out of town.”  His eyes twinkled at them. “I understand it was a good thing I couldn’t make it.”  
  
Sherlock’s cheeks coloured slightly. “Yes, it was indeed, but Mummy will survive the embarrassment of driving us out of her house.”  
  
Dr Fulton shook his head sympathetically and heaved a sigh.  “Your mother always was a firecracker, son.”  He tuned to John who found himself staring open-mouthed at the man as if he were a celebrity.  The man smiled broadly at John’s awed expression. 

“And you must be Sherlock’s bond mate, John. It’s so very nice to meet you.  I never thought anybody would be able to snare this one, but you’ve got yourself quite a special alpha, young man. I know, I delivered him myself.”  John watched in fascination as Sherlock’s ears turned red this time, matching his flaming cheeks. 

The obstetrician held out his hand to John, who remembered to close his mouth and shake the man’s hand at the last moment.  Sherlock huffed out a laugh and spoke. “You must forgive him, Dr Fulton. John is also a medical doctor and he’s a huge fan of your work.”  

Dr Fulton’s smile grew larger, if possible. “How lovely to meet a fan of mine!” The beta didn’t seem to be very surprised that John was an omega who was also a doctor. Once he’d decided to live as an omega, John had received a lot of incredulous reactions from people when he told them he was a medical doctor.   
  
John managed to nod and cleared his throat. “Um. Yes. I read your work when I did my clinical rotation in obstetrics at med school.  Your book was probably the best textbook on obstetrics I ever found and I actually considered specialising it the subject after reading your work.” 

Dr Fulton smiled and cocked his head to one side.  “Why didn’t you go into obstetrics, son?”  

John looked at him wryly. “Well, there wasn’t much call for it in the army. I ended up specialising in trauma surgery and working in field hospitals.” 

The obstetrician laughed and nodded.  “I know there are a few obstetricians in the military, but not much call for us on the battlefield.”  

They chatted for a while and John continued to relax as he and Dr Fulton got to know one another.  It was nice to have the doctor’s full attention and John decided he liked the man very much. Rich had come into the room while they talked, carrying paperwork and John’s chart.  

Finally, Dr Fulton looked at the chart Rich handed him and began to go through it, asking John a few questions about various things. Morning sickness was brought up and Dr Fulton had Rich make a note to get John a prescription for some anti-nausea medication. 

“Now don’t take this the wrong way, John, but I need you to know that your age and the fact this is your first child makes you a high risk patient. It’s very unusual for an omega to wait so long to start a family.  Thankfully your vitals are good and you seem to be in excellent health.   
  
”I want to recheck your vitals myself and then I’d like to do some blood tests, a pelvic exam and an ultrasound.  There are some other things that we can discuss later if these preliminary tests indicate their necessity.    
  
”I know you say you think you’re almost 9 weeks along and it’s actually somewhat early to do an ultrasound but because of your age, I’d like to do one now, another at 12 weeks, 16 and 20 weeks.  Rich will give you a schedule and arrange for appointments.”  John watched as the nurse nodded efficiently and jotted down the information.  

“The first ultrasound I’d like to do is a bit more invasive than subsequent ones will be, though. If you agree, I’d like to do a transvaginal ultrasound because it’s early in the pregnancy and it’s easier to see inside the uterus with that technique.  Will you permit this?”  
  
John shrugged.  He’d always found omega pelvic and prostate exams horribly intrusive but they had to be done and he was very pragmatic. “I’m willing to do whatever you think is necessary.”

The doctor nodded.  “All right then, let’s get started with the pelvic exam.  I’m guessing you want Sherlock to stay in the room with you?” 

Sherlock had glued himself to John’s side and there was no way to get rid of him short of a crowbar, so John just nodded, lay back on the examination table and put his feet up in the universally hated stirrups.  

Everything went smoothly. The pelvic exam was routine, though Dr Fulton thought his uterus seemed larger than normal.  This was a bit of a mystery to John but it explained why his trousers didn’t fasten as easily. 

Dr Fulton also did a breast exam. It was something that John hadn’t experienced in an annual before now.  Thankfully, once the gown was lowered to expose his chest, the obstetrician made no mention of all the scars scattered across his body. The only thing the obstetrician asked was if there was nerve damage to the left nipple due to the mass of scarring on his left shoulder and chest. 

On the contrary, both of John’s nipples seemed especially sensitive, slightly swollen and very tender at the moment and he said so.

”That’s good news.  You don’t have much in the way of mammary glands yet but that will change.  I was going to recommend that you not breast feed if you had nerve damage on your left side.   That bullet wound looks like it caused a lot of trauma and it’s best to be certain.  I’m glad to know you were spared that much.”  That was all the comment made about the scars and John was grateful to avoid all the histrionics some doctors made when they found out that an omega had been allowed in combat. 

John was a bit nervous about the ultrasound. He wasn’t afraid it would hurt or anything like that but it would make everything more “real” once he saw and recognised what was inside him.  His and Sherlock’s child.  It would be a rather emotional moment for them both, he was sure. 

Before he knew it, it was time and he lay back on the examination table once again with his feet in the stirrups.  This time Sherlock grasped his hand and held on tightly. An ultrasound transducer was placed inside and settled right up next to the cervix. Once everything was ready, both Sherlock and John’s eyes were glued to the video screen as the device began to work.   
  
The doctor hummed a bit as they watched the screen. Neither John nor Sherlock could decipher the images at first but then Dr Fulton began to point out features.  
  
”Well this explains why your uterus seemed a bit larger, young man. My word, John. It looks like you’ve got at least two babies in here. See, here are the heads and they each have their own placenta—that’s good. They seem to be the right size for 8 to 9 weeks, so your estimated time for conception is correct. That means your due date will be in mid July.  If you look here, you can see their hearts beating.” 

Sherlock was mystified.  “Why didn’t I hear their heartbeats when I listened the other day?”

Dr Fulton shrugged. “I suspect you just didn’t know what you were hearing.  Their heartbeats are very fast and you might have been listening for something similar to an adult’s heartbeat.  At the end of the first trimester, the heartbeat can get up to 175 beats per minute. You could have mistaken the sound for something else, especially since there are two babies.  You’re welcome to try again once I’ve removed the transducer.”

The doctor took snapshots of various images, saved them on the computer and arranged to make prints of the best digital images.  He then gently removed the ultrasound transducer and gave John the permission to get dressed. 

Before John could sit up, however, Sherlock bent over and pressed his ear gently against his stomach. Dr Fulton had some suggestions.  “Listen for an incredibly fast double heartbeat and you’ll find them.”   
  
Sherlock closed his eyes and listened carefully.  “I think I hear them.  Yes, I do hear them now.  I heard that before but I didn’t know what it was.” He stood up and grinned at John. “I just thought it was something to do with your digestive system.” 

The detective bent down again and listened some more while John and Dr Fulton exchanged eye rolls. John chuckled.  “He means he thought I had gas.”  
  
The sentinel ignored them both and his expression was one of pure concentration.  “Now that I know what to listen for, I can hear them easily.” 

He stood up again, his face lit with joy.  “John, I can hear them now! It’s beautiful but so different from your heartbeat. That’s why I didn’t recognise it at first.”  
  
Dr Fulton nodded.  “Their hearts beat much faster at this stage in development, but will slow as the babies mature. Because he’s a sentinel, Sherlock can hear their heartbeats, but Doppler ultrasound is the only way John and I can hear them right now. We mere mortals will be able to hear with a stethoscope around 20 weeks. 

“So. Congratulations, John and Sherlock!” He grinned happily at the gobsmacked alpha and omega. “You’ve definitely got twins on the way!”  

Rich handed John a couple of prints and he took them with fingers that shook.  On the best one the nurse had circled the two babies in the photo with a pen and labelled them Baby A and B. 

All John could do was stare at the photo in shock.  Conflicting feelings of overwhelming love and absolute panic consumed him as he looked at the photos. He couldn’t decide to laugh maniacally or burst into tears. Twins. Oh my god.  There were going to be two Sherlock clones and the original running around, driving him around the twist at once. How could he possibly survive it? Were they identical or fraternal?  Did it really matter?  _Ohmygod there were going to be **two**  of them_. He was exhausted just thinking about it.

Sherlock was practically crushing John’s hand and looking alternately terrified, excited and unbearably smug knowing he’d put two babies inside his omega.  It seemed to be a common fantasy for every alpha to give his omega as many babies as possible at once and Sherlock had done it.  His attention was torn away from his swirling thoughts by Dr Fulton. 

“I have a quick question, John.  Did you wait a few heats after you stopped your suppressants before trying to conceive?”    
  
It took a moment for John to register the question. “Uh, no.  The circumstances were such that it wasn’t possible to get birth control before my heat came on me. Why do you ask?”  

“Well, due to recent research, we have learnt that when omegas have been using suppressants for a long period of time and then go off them, they tend to super ovulate naturally and end up with twins or triplets.  I’ve read of one case where quadruplets were produced without the aid of fertility drugs. That’s why we recommend that one use birth control when first coming off the suppressants and wait a few heats before trying to conceive.”  
  
”Is there a risk to the babies because of the suppressants?” John was horrified at the thought, putting a protective hand over his abdomen. 

The doctor shook his head as he removed his gloves.  “Not that we have seen. It just seems to cause an increase in multiple births but no birth defects that I know of.  At least no more than statistically normal.  So calm down and don’t worry. I can practically see your blood pressure go up.”  

John closed his eyes and sighed with relief.  The doctor put a hand on his shoulder and grinned. “Everything looks fine so far, John. You’re doing everything right. Now go home and celebrate with Sherlock. You both deserve it, because in a few months, you won’t have the time or energy for it!”  He winked at them both as they looked at him in dread.  For some reason, Dr Fulton seemed to think that was hilarious and walked out of the room laughing. 

 

 

__________________________________________________________

John didn’t remember leaving the office or even getting into the cab.  All he could do was stare at the photos in disbelief.  Before he knew it, they were back at Baker Street and Sherlock was carefully leading him into the flat.  He sat down on the sofa and just blinked for a while as Sherlock made tea.  Then they both sat and looked at the photos some more. 

John finally turned to his alpha. “I can’t believe this.  It’s just not real, but it is real.” 

Sherlock’s face scrunched up at him. “That made no sense at all, but somehow I understood you.” 

“It’s hard enough to accept that we’re going to be parents, but to have two! It’s unbelievable.”  They were staring so hard at the photos that they didn’t hear Mrs Hudson come up the stairs and into the room. 

“John? You’re having a baby? Why, that’s wonderful!”  Both men started in surprise at hearing her voice and didn’t say anything as she took the prints from John’s unresisting hand. 

“Oh my goodness, John! You’re having twins! Just look at these photos!”  She sat down next to John and hugged him tight. “You look like you’ve been pole axed, both of you!”  

She examined the photos in more detail while the two of them sat there beside her, still speechless and stunned. 

After a few minutes, he looked at Mrs Hudson in surprise as if he just noticed she was there.

”Mrs Hudson, I’m having twins. How am I going to cope?”  
  
She raised her eyebrows at him and then spoke slowly, as if he were a dim child. “Well, Sherlock will be here to help and so will I, dear. Your Mum will probably move in with you.   And millions of people have dealt with this over many thousands of years, luv.” She patted his hand and returned the photos.  “You’ll do just fine, I know it. You and Sherlock will be wonderful parents.”  

John had a sudden thought and hoped Sherlock would be on board as they’d yet to discuss this.  But with Sherlock’s mother presumably out of the picture for a while, he thought he’d ask.  “Will you be their godmother, then? I’d really like that—if you’re willing that is,” he added hastily.

Her eyes glistened with tears of joy and she hugged John tightly. “I’d be honoured to be a godmother to them both.  You know I will love them as if they were my own grandbabies, dear.” She sat back and wiped her eyes.

Sherlock reached across John and took her hands. “You’re one of the first to know about this.  We knew John was expecting and were going to wait until after the first trimester before we told anyone, but this is the first we knew about the twins. Thank you for being willing to help. I have the feeling we’ll need all the help we can get.”

He looked into John’s face with love and courage shining out of his eyes.  The doctor couldn’t help but pull his alpha into a tight embrace and if his eyes were wet, he wasn’t going to say.  

Mrs Hudson had left while John was having his moment, but not before she had taken the photo of Baby A and B and attached it to the refrigerator with a magnet John had picked up at St. Bart’s.  John found it later the next day while he was fixing tea and couldn’t help but smile at the absurd burst of exhilaration he felt whenever he saw it.  

 

 

_________________________________________________________________  
  

At his mother and Harry’s insistence, they finally coordinated with Grand-maman Holmes and set a date for the bonding ceremony.   It would take place in her garden at Giverny at the end of April when the spring flowers would be blooming. 

“You do realise I’m going to be as big as the backside of a bus by that date.” John’s voice was muffled. He was sitting at the table after speaking with his mother with his head buried in his arms.  He was exhausted just from having listened to her go on and on and on about all the things she planned to do for the ceremony.  It was a lucky thing he wasn’t really involved in all the planning.  Someone would likely be dead by now if so.  
  
Sherlock kissed the back of John’s neck and then licked it, making the doctor shudder. In his deepest voice, he replied, “Yes, I know. It’s traditional and considered to be excellent luck for the omega to be very pregnant for the bonding ceremony. Your enormous belly will be a symbol of fecundity and the renewal of life, which is why it’s especially fitting that we hold the ceremony in the spring. Of course, everyone will also be admiring my virility for being able to put so many babies in you at once.”  
  
John didn’t lift his head from the table. “Smug git. You’ll pay for that, you bastard. I’ll see to it one day, when I can lift my head.”  
  
Sherlock only laughed and went to fix John some tea and biscuits. He was getting quite good at it. 

“You said your Mum invited us for Christmas. There are only a few days left before it’s here. Are you feeling up to it?”  Sherlock’s voice was raised somewhat as he spoke from the kitchen. 

“Ugh.  Christmas.  I’ve not even shopped for gifts. Do we have to do this? Can’t they postpone it to sometime like twenty years from now? Or when the children are grown and I’m not so exhausted?”  The worst part of this wasn’t the nausea or awful smells, it was the constant tiredness that seemed to consume him. 

“I thought it would be nice to visit your mother. I’ve not met her yet, only spoken to her on the phone a few times.”  
  
John managed to raise his head and turned around to stare at Sherlock. “Are you sure?  She would be thrilled but Harry and Clara will be there, too.” John looked hopefully up at his alpha. Sherlock didn’t care for Harry but he’d not met Clara, who was charming and could help make the visit a lot of fun for the both of them. He really wanted to tell his Mum the news about the babies, too, even though he was nervous about doing it before the end of the first trimester.  But it might be worth it.  John loved spending the holidays at his Mums’ house. She cooked his favourite foods and he always had a relaxing time. Plus, he was shit scared and wanted her comfort. 

“I think we should go. You need your mother and we should go ahead and tell her the good news.  We’ll drive up Christmas Eve and come home after Boxing Day.”  
  
”Are you sure you want to be in the same house with Harry all that time?” John was dubious. 

“Yes, I’ll be fine. You’ll be there and that’s all that matters to me.”  
  
John snorted and put his head back down on the table. “That works for me.  Wake me when it’s time to leave.”  He could practically hear Sherlock roll his eyes and smiled.

 

___________________________________________________________________________________ 

Morosely, John crossed off another gift idea from his list. The doctor was trying hard to stay within his budget, but since he’d been fired by St Bart’s A&E, his savings had got rather low and there just wasn’t much money for luxuries like Christmas presents. Thankfully he had found Sherlock’s present on eBay earlier in the month. The signed copy of Robert Ressler’s book Whoever Fights Monsters was already wrapped and put under the tiny tree they’d set up in the window.  However, his pride had kept him from asking for help from Sherlock but he was going to have to set that aside soon and it was going to be hard. 

He’s always hated the idea of not being able to pay his own way. Sherlock’s mum had been right about him living off her son and it was more difficult than he’d ever imagined having to admit to himself that he was now going to be dependant on Sherlock for a long time to come.  

He did help Sherlock with his cases, but as his pregnancy progressed, especially with twins, he wouldn’t be able to do much to hold up his end of things. He’d be lucky if Dr Fulton didn’t put him in hospital the last month or two. At his age, that was only a sensible precaution with multiples. 

It wasn’t like the detective would miss the insignificant amount of money that John would need for monthly expenses, but that wasn’t the point.  The point was that John was no longer financially independent and would have to ask for money whenever he needed it.  It was not a situation he’d ever expected to find himself in and he didn’t like it at all.  It represented a shift in power in their relationship and he needed to talk to Sherlock about it. Even if it wasn’t important to Sherlock, it was important to John.

Sighing, the doctor put down his biro and sat back, stretching and yawning.  Sherlock had gone out to get the papers and would be back soon.  They could discuss it all later, though he wasn’t looking forward to it.  John was feeling very out of sorts. Some of it was probably hormones but the rest was the result of money issues and the upcoming Tribunal, so he needed to be careful to keep his temper.  
  
It seemed he was not going to be able to do that, however.  Sherlock came back with the papers and tossed them down on the table where John was sitting, jostling the doctor’s laptop where he was working.   The detective was full of nervous energy and began pacing around the room, stopping and staring off into space occasionally, then starting up again.  John was trying to organise notes for the case and everything was irritating him. 

Attempting to keep his temper, he asked not-so-sweetly, “What the bloody hell are you doing?  I’m trying to work here.”  

Sherlock blinked at him in complete astonishment, as if he’d just been savaged on the ankle by a goldfish.  After a moment, he replied slowly, in an attempt to calm the clearly irate omega.  “I’ve just been thinking, John. We need to go back to the warehouses now and finish investigating the one nearest the water that we missed. That way we'll have that information when we get the lists later this week.”  
  
John wasn’t having it and he snapped at his bond mate. ”Well, you’ll just have to think again.  We’re not going back out to those warehouses until you’re cleared by your doctor. You’re not to do anything strenuous for another week. You’re not even supposed to be using your brain for anything difficult, but that is always a lost cause. So, no.  You’re not going and that’s final.”  
   
The detective stood there in disbelieving silence for a moment, which was more than John had expected.  Then the explosion occurred. “What do you mean I can’t go to the warehouses?  I don’t need to get your permission…!”  
  
John stood and cut him off flat as his temper flared. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. In fact, yes you do need my permission. I’m still a doctor and your bond mate. I will not risk the health and well-being of the father of my children so he can satisfy his curiosity.  Those warehouses have been there for over a century and they are not going anywhere.  Our killer isn’t going anywhere and waiting a few days will not hurt anything.  
  
”I know you’re frustrated, Sherlock. I am too. But I will not allow you to endanger your brain for this.”  John was adamant and he almost laughed at the incredibly frustrated look on Sherlock’s face as he was completely thwarted at every turn.    
  
John sighed in exasperation when Sherlock threw himself on the sofa, huffed very loudly and turned his back to the room, sulking.  The doctor could almost see the black cloud forming over his bond mate’s head.  John pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes tightly.   These moods of Sherlock’s, though they came less and less the longer they were bonded, drove him crazy because they were so childish. It was time he took a walk and got some air. 

Throwing on his new coat and scarf he barely heard Sherlock’s question.  “And where are  _you_  going?”

His only response was, “ **Out!”**  as he slammed the door and clattered down the stairs.  Mrs Hudson showed some good sense and didn’t come out of her flat as he threw open the front door and stomped away down the street, heading for Regent’s Park.  A few hours in the sunshine and fresh air would do his bad temper a world of good. 

Absently he noted the “For Sale” sign on Mrs Turner’s door was finally gone.  He hoped she’d got a good price for the building, what with the slow estate market and the incredibly high prices for London property.  

She’d had trouble finding new tenants for her upstairs flat when her “married ones” had moved away and had been forced to put the property on the market. The flat the couple had vacated was twice the size of 221B and was very expensive to rent.  John just hoped Mrs Turner was able to find an affordable new home and knew Mrs Hudson would miss her friend terribly. 

John felt better after arriving in the park and had the chance to walk around for a while.  Though cold outside, it was a gorgeous day and there were many people taking advantage of the relatively nice weather.  Lots of families were out with their children.  Spotting a bench in the sun, he sat to watch them play.  It was fun to see the kids running around in their colourful winter coats and scarves with bright red cheeks and laughing faces. 

He’d never really taken the time to watch children play before and it was absorbing to observe the parents interact with their children and to try to imagine himself and Sherlock doing that also.  Listening to the children’s shrieking laughter made him smile.  

Then he began to imagine the two of them walking their children to school and…oh, god. Did they need to sign them up for pre-school before they were even born?  He had heard stories about that somewhere.  What schools were best?  How did he find out? Would Mycroft know? Christ, there were so many things he didn’t have a clue about and here he was just blithely having children! What was he thinking?  

Lost deep in thought, he didn’t notice the man approaching him until he’d sat down beside him on the bench.   John still didn’t notice him until he’d cleared his throat and stared meaningfully at him through the thick lenses of his spectacles. Finally turning to look at his new companion, John groaned and closed his eyes.  It was the omega rights activist/journalist Mr Dean from the press conference looking unblinkingly at him.  

Heaving an enormous sigh, John rubbed his face with his hands and turned to Dean.  “How much did you have to pay to get my name?” 

Dean sat back but continued to watch John closely.  “Actually, I didn’t have to pay anything, Dr Watson.  One of the nurses in the examination room where your alpha was treated called me and told me about you. He didn’t want anything except to ask that I try to get you to tell your story. He wants the chance to be a doctor like you but is being held back by his gender.” 

“You’re taking the piss.  That’s daft.”

”No, it’s not.  You’ve not had to live as an omega your whole life.  It’s just been recently that you’ve not had to hide what you actually are.  I suspect you’re still hiding the fact you’re a guide, though.”  
  
The man was too damn perceptive which was probably why he was a good journalist. 

“So what do you want with me?”  John continued to watch the children play as he wondered what price he was going to have to pay. 

“I want your story. You can be an incredible asset to the omega community by being willing to speak out and help us demand our rights as full members of society.  Despite all the gains we’ve made in the past thirty years, there’s still backlash.  Discrimination isn’t as overt as it was, but it’s still out there. 

“That failed legislation is a good case in point.  The alphas in Parliament who wrote the law claimed it was done as an effort to help omegas. It was really designed to restrict our access to jobs and education—all in the interest of ‘protecting’ us from societal dangers they think we’re too delicate to deal with on our own. 

“If you would be willing to tell your whole story, it would prove that omegas are capable of doing anything we set our minds to do.  What you’ve achieved with your life is considered rather miraculous.  Most of society still thinks we’re incapable of learning anything complicated and can’t stand stress or pressure from a difficult or challenging career.  Frankly, many still believe we would all be happiest barefoot and pregnant our whole lives.  

“Sure, there are some omegas like that but we need to change that attitude.  You are the living example of what an omega can achieve if he or she desires to work hard and reach for what they want.  All we need is a chance and you are the proof that we can succeed.”

John rubbed his face with his hand again.  Everything Dean said was true.  He could probably make a small difference if he told his story.  Maybe other omegas would find the courage to go after what they wanted and society would eventually change, knowing it was possible.  He had to think about the repercussions of this, though and he wanted to talk to Sherlock about it.  

“What will you do if I refuse?” Always best to know the worst case scenario in a situation like this one. 

Dean looked disappointed but answered. “Nothing. I’ll walk away and not bother you again.  If you do this, I want it to be with your full cooperation.”   
  
John was startled and shot a quick glance at the journalist. “You’re not joking, are you? You’re serious.”

“I’m very serious, Dr Watson. This is too important to me. I want it done right.  Honestly, if I were in your place, I’m not sure what I would do, either.” 

Lowering his head, John stared at his hands for a while.  “I’ll need to speak to my alpha about this and I’ve got a lot on my plate at the moment. Do you have a way I can ring you?” 

Dean sighed and gave John a half smile.  “I can’t say I expected any other answer.  Here’s my card.  Feel free to contact me when you decide what to do.  I can say I’ll promise to do my best to protect your identity. Please think about this, Dr Watson.” 

“Yeah.  I appreciate that. And I will think about it.”  Dean stood up and walked away. John squinted into the bright sunlight and wondered what the hell he was going to do. 

Once the children and their parents were long gone from the park, John got up stiffly and headed home.  His mind kept running in circles like a hamster on its wheel and getting absolutely nowhere.  He hoped Sherlock’s mood had lifted because they had some things to discuss. 

As soon as he made it to the top of the stairs, Sherlock was in the doorway, looking contrite.   They stared at each other and John held out his arms. They were holding each other within a second and both spoke simultaneously.  “I’m sorry!”  “I’m so sorry, luv.”   
  
They pulled back from each other and grinned.  Sherlock’s smile faded immediately, though. 

“You met someone at the park and he said something that disturbed you.  What was it?” Sherlock’s tone was concerned but very demanding.  John’s grin faded, also. 

“I ran into that omega activist from the press conference.”  He pulled out the card and gave it to Sherlock as they went into the flat and closed the door.  John removed his coat and scarf. “He knows I’m the omega guide and he wants to interview me.”   
  
Sherlock gave him a very sharp glance.  “How did he find out who you are?”  
  
John sighed and explained what had happened at the hospital.  “Actually, I’m surprised no one has come after me before now.  I guess I have to make a decision about this but I didn’t give him a time and he said he’d leave me alone if I decided against an interview.” 

“I’ve heard mixed things about this omega but the sources I trust most have had positive things to say about him and his journalistic practices. If you think you could serve the cause of omega rights by coming forward and giving this man an interview, I will support you.  But there are many things to weigh here, not the least our unborn children.”  

“I know all this and I guess I’ll just have to figure out the pros and cons. But I don’t want to deal with this until after the Tribunal.  There’s too much to think about and one of the things I need to do is apologise to you for losing my temper.”  
  
Sherlock took him into his arms again.  “I understand and shouldn’t have irritated you.  I could tell you were upset about something but I ignored it so I could pursue what I wanted to do.  I should have listened to you and I apologise.”  
  
”I shouldn’t have yelled at you and if you want to take the car down to the warehouse district, I’ll go with you.  But it’s too late to do that today.  Maybe we can do it later in the week.”  
  
”Mycroft is supposed to be sending me the list of warehouse owners sometime soon.  Apparently his forensic accountant found something interesting.  We can arrange it once we get the list.” 

John agreed and decided to fix some tea.  Sherlock followed. “John, I realise that part of why you were upset has to do with money. You’re worried now that you don’t have an income.  
  
The doctor looked at Sherlock over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow as he flicked on the kettle.  “I’m not surprised you figured it out. Yes, I’m very worried about money.”  
  
The detective was unusually diffident.  “John, you know my trust fund is considerable and we’d be hard pressed to spend it all.” John’s eyebrows both went up at that. He had no idea how much money Sherlock had, but he didn’t think it was that much. 

The alpha continued.  “Every penny of it also belongs to you.  Your name is now on the accounts. Mycroft saw to it just last week. I wanted to surprise you at Christmas but I’ll give you all the documentation now. You’ll just need to sign a few papers and it will all be official.”  

He handed John a large envelope that contained an investment portfolio, bank statements, a bank card and a fine leather chequebook.   John opened the statement and blinked a few times at the number of zeros at the end of the bank balance.  It was a joint account with more money than he’d ever imagined he’d have access to in his entire lifetime.  

Before he could say anything, Sherlock broke into his thoughts.  “What’s mine is yours and I know if the situation were reversed, you’d do the same. Am I wrong?”  
  
John could only shake his head. “No, you’re not wrong.  But this…this is too much, Sherlock.”  The omega was overwhelmed and raised his eyes to his alpha. 

“No, it’s not too much.  It’s everything I have and if I had more, I’d give it to you, also.”  
  
Smiling and reaching out for his alpha, John shook his head again. This was too much but he decided to accept the gesture. “You’re such a romantic. You’ve already given me everything I could ever want just by agreeing to be my bond mate.  I don’t need anything other than that.  But I’ll accept this for our babies' future.” 

Sherlock nodded. “Thank you.” Taking his bond mate into his arms, he held on tight. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some description of nasty things that a serial killer might do. Thank you to all who have left such lovely comments and kudos. It means so much to me that you're enjoying the story and I appreciate your patience in sticking with me through this. Thank you!

A few days later, Sherlock breezed into the flat and removed his coat and scarf as John was relaxing on the sofa with his novel. The doctor sat up as Sherlock handed him a piece of paper.  The detective was clearly excited.    

“Mycroft has finally delivered a list of the owners of the warehouses we were interested in searching. There were about twelve businesses that supposedly own the warehouses but they were all dummy corporations.  It took him some time to trace them.  The actual owners’ name was completely obscured by the false information.  

“It turns out that almost all the warehouses belong to the Justin Corporation, a property development company with an office downtown.  According to our other lists they have recently had a large amount of silicone polymer and its curing agent sent to the address for the company. My question is why does a property developer need a large amount of this product?” 

John nodded, eager that they had a new line of investigation at last. “I suppose that’s what we’re going to find out, now that you’re cleared for light exercise.” 

Sherlock smirked as he pulled out a badge he’d nicked from Lestrade. “We’ve got an appointment with the Justin Corporation office manager and we’ll see what he has to say.” 

The business was located in a rather expensive part of town and Sherlock fit right in with the fashionable downtown workers.  His confident stride and posh clothes got them sent straight into the head office. 

Sherlock quickly showed Lestrade’s badge to the harried manager Josh Morris who didn’t even glance at it.  The beta was clearly stressed and John idly wondered if he ought to have his blood pressure checked.  Sherlock introduced himself and John and both sat down in front of the man’s very messy desk.  

Morris blew out a quick breath and stared at them quizzically.  “So, Mr Holmes. How can I help you and your…” the man sniffed and looked confused as he finished his sentence, “…omega? You work together as police?”  

Sherlock waved impatiently. “We work together, yes, but that’s not important.  We’ve been tracing the sale of various substances that might have been used in a criminal matter. Justin Corporation has ordered a number of these materials.”  
  
Morris’s ruddy face screwed up in concern. “I can’t imagine what we might have ordered that could be used illegally. Jennifer does the purchasing but we only order what has been authorized by me or Mr Justin.  What are you looking for?”

Sherlock replied briskly.  “We don’t know for certain they have actually been used for criminal purposes. We’re simply investigating and would appreciate your cooperation. These are the materials that have been ordered. Can you tell me anything about them?” John handed the man the list they had compiled and the beta put on his spectacles to look at it.

Frowning, he read slowly through the list and shook his head, removing his glasses as he glanced back up at them.  “I never ordered these items.  It must have been Mr Justin’s son, Michael. He’s an artist—sculpture --and has been renovating one of the warehouses down by the river for his studio.  His father said he could order whatever he wanted and it would be paid for by the company. Mr Justin can claim the supplies on his taxes, you know.”  
  
John and Sherlock exchanged a look with eyebrows raised.  They turned back to Morris, who continued to chatter on without any prompting from them. 

“He’s a strange one, that Michael.  Never very stable, you know how art students are. Dress weird, act weird with all those tattoos and piercing done in painful places on their bodies.”  The man shuddered and made a face.  John rolled his eyes and could tell Sherlock was barely holding onto his patience. 

“You know, he was going to be a doctor?  He’d been accepted to medical school and everything.  Was nearly done and then quit to become an artist of all things.  You can imagine his father was not best pleased! 

“Anyway, last year or so Michael started ordering large amounts of construction supplies, big things like a refrigerator/freezer and a natural gas powered generator. He had them delivered here at the loading bay in back and arranged to have them removed. Don’t particularly like the man he sends. Big ginger alpha. Very coarse and harasses the staff. But he arranges removal right away.”  

John felt like his jaw was going to hit the floor, he was so flabbergasted. After all these weeks of searching, this was amazing news. It seemed they might have actually found their killer.  All the information they’d been collecting for so long was seemingly coming together in this one person, Michael Justin and it was literally being handed to them on a silver platter. John couldn’t believe their luck and exchanged an incredulous glance with Sherlock.  
  
“How do you get in touch with Michael to let him know his items have arrived?  Do you have a number for him and do you know which warehouse he was renovating? Also, do you have an address where he lives?” John could tell Sherlock was hiding his excitement. It seemed they might have a major breakthrough and John’s heart sped up as he waited for the answer. 

Morris scratched his head. “Well, that’s the problem.  I don’t have a number for him. Michael rings here to find out when the stuff arrives.  Jennifer usually handles it and I end up finding out about it when someone complains about that ginger alpha.  Michael might be staying at the family home in Chelsea if he’s not at his warehouse. And I don’t know which building he’s working from but I think it’s one of the ones that are right at the waterfront. We’ve got sixteen total warehouses, but only about seven are close to the river. 

“None of them are occupied or even restored and the way the economy been going it’s unlikely we’ll be converting any of them anytime soon.  They were to be waterfront condominiums, you know.  Now they’re just tax write-offs.  They’ll probably just stay that way until they can be sold again.” Morris shook his head in disgust and seemed dubious that would ever happen in his lifetime.  

Looking back up at them as if suddenly remembering they were there, he asked, “Do you want the addresses? I’ll have Jennifer get them for you.” 

John looked at Sherlock in resignation. It seemed that there would be more leg work for them but on the positive side, they were getting so much closer.  “Thank you. That would be very helpful.   Did you know that the warehouses are listed with the city as being owned by a number of dummy corporations? Most of them were created just in the last year or so.”  
  
Morris looked shocked. “They are?  But they’ve always been owned by Mr Justin.  I was here when he bought them about fifteen years ago.  How could that have happened? Mr Justin would have told me about it if he’d done something like that.” 

The man was clearly mystified and the detective didn’t follow up. Instead he asked, “By the way, is Mr Justin at the office today? I expect he would have a number for his son.”  
  
The office manager laughed rather sarcastically and shook his head.  “Sorry, but the man’s not been in the office for at least a year.  He emails us when we have to conduct business or if he wants something.”  John’s eyebrows rose as Sherlock’s expression became grim and he made a motion for the man to continue. 

Morris sat forward and gave them a conspiratorial look. “He went through a mid-life crisis and dumped his son’s mother. Very ugly divorce.  She had a dreadful solicitor and got very little in settlement. So she topped herself. 

“But Mr Justin, he’d found himself a trophy omega and that’s all that mattered to him.  And the new one is even younger than his son.  Very pretty but stuck up about it, you know? Too good for us common folk.  She had him move to the Bahamas last year and we’ve not seen hide nor hair of him since.”  His tone was scandalised and amused at the same time. It seemed Mr Morris was quite the gossip and apparently didn’t care much for his employer's behaviour. 

John was surprised. “You’ve not spoken with Mr Justin in the year since he left?”   
   
Morris pursed his lips and shook his head.  ”No, he’s not rung here. Even before he moved away, he wasn't one for coming into the office much.  Left all the work to me and Jennifer. Spent all his time on the golf courses.  Like I said, we send him emails if we need to ask him something and he emails if he wants something from us.  We usually hear from him a couple of times a week.”

“How does he sign documents? I’m sure you must need his signature for business transactions and the like.”  
  
”I email the forms, he signs, scans and sends PDFs for that. The internet’s great and so far it all works just fine.  Why are you asking these questions?”  He looked quizzically back and forth between John and Sherlock. 

Sherlock ignored him. “Mr Morris, do you mind if I look at some of the emails he’s sent to you?  And do you have any documents here with his actual signature? I’d like to see them, please.”   
  
The detective wasn’t really giving Morris a choice so after a moment of indecision, the office manager picked up his phone and spoke to Jennifer, asking for signed documents.  He then pulled up some emails from his employer for Sherlock to examine.  

The alpha commandeered the computer and began going over the emails, then printed a few of them out along with some of the attachments.  Morris seemed more curious than worried as to why Sherlock was doing this. Jennifer brought in some actual signed documents and delivered them to Morris who handed them to Sherlock. 

The alpha’s mouth tightened slightly when he compared the signatures. John noticed right away that something wasn’t right. 

“May I make copies of these originals?” Morris shrugged as Sherlock used the office scanner/printer to copy the documents.   
  
Quickly assembling the papers and tucking them away in one of his coat pockets, Sherlock shook hands with Morris, giving the bemused man his most charming smile. 

“Thank you, Mr Morris. You’ve been most cooperative and we appreciate your help very much.  I’m sure we’ll be in touch. Before we go, however, can you tell me if Michael is an only child? And was anyone in the Justin family a sentinel or guide?” 

Morris started to look worried.  “He’s an only child. And as far as I know, there are none of that kind in the family. What are you suggesting?”  

“Nothing, Mr Morris.  Good afternoon and thank you again.” With that, Sherlock put a possessive arm around John and swept them out of the office and back outside. 

 

 

_____________________________________________________________ 

Once they left the building, the detective began searching for something on his mobile and then sent a text before he flagged down a taxi.  John knew him well enough to keep quiet and let him work.  Sherlock had seen something that was obviously clear to him but the doctor simply had to wait and his alpha would let him know what was going on as soon as he was ready. 

As they settled in the cab, Sherlock gave the driver an address in Chelsea.  John had expected them to head home but wasn’t really surprised that they were heading somewhere new.

”So. Where are we going and what did you figure out?”  John had complete faith in his alpha and was very curious about what Sherlock had found. 

“We’re going to Mr Charles Justin’s home in Chelsea.  I’ve texted Lestrade to meet us there. The emails to Morris did not originate from the Bahamas. The IP address is here in London.”  

He pulled the papers out from a pocket in his coat and unfolded them. John looked where Sherlock pointed. “If you examine this, Mr Justin’s signature from two years ago is slightly different from the most recent ones. Someone, probably his son Michael, is forging his signature.” John looked closely at the signatures.  They looked identical to him but then he wasn’t Sherlock Holmes.  
  
Sherlock’s expression was grim when he turned his eyes to John. “I think that, when we get to Mr Justin’s home, we’ll find evidence that both Mr Justin and his omega are dead.  I suspect that Michael killed them both. The divorce and his mother’s suicide might have triggered his rage, if he is as unstable as Morris suggested. 

“The timing fits. Slightly over a year ago he began to buy equipment. His father may have given him access to the family money before he was to leave for the Bahamas but Michael may also have simply stolen his father’s identity. He would only need his father’s bank card and PIN and he has access to all the family money without interference. I think Michael took the opportunity to start building his dream of becoming an artist who specialised in murder.” 

The taxi pulled up in front of a rather lovely red brick Victorian three storey home.  It had a terraced roof, large bay windows and white trim.  It was one of many similar to it on the block and it didn’t stand out in any way aside from the fact that the front garden was not as well tended as the rest of the homes.  

As they approached the front door, John noticed there were a large number of newspapers and trash tucked into a corner of the recessed front door, mostly out of sight from the street.  

Sherlock listened for a moment. “There’s no one here.” He picked the lock quickly and they were inside. They both took a moment to put on gloves as they stepped around a large stack of post on the floor where it had fallen after being pushed through the letterbox in the door.  More post had been placed on a side table that sat beneath a large mirror to the left of the entrance. Sherlock quickly sorted through them.  
  
”All the bills are gone except for the most recent ones on the floor here.  It seems someone must come here at least once a month to pick up the bills and pay them.”  

They walked slowly into the front parlour and looked around.  A large pile of luggage was placed carefully by the entrance to the room, though some of it had tipped over and fallen to the floor.  It was at this point that John realised they were likely in the middle of a crime scene. 

The furniture and carpets were all shades of white, pastel pink and pale green.  Everything was completely undisturbed and bright and airy with lots of light from the south facing windows.  John noticed there was an undisturbed layer of dust on every surface, however. 

Sherlock raised his head and sniffed. John removed a glove and lightly grasped his wrist to guide his sentinel.  The detective closed his eyes and turned around, facing the stairs. 

“I smell something upstairs, John.  Put your glove back on and follow me.”  They climbed the stairs to the landing of the second storey as Sherlock followed his nose.  All the doors to the rooms were open except for one at the end of the hall.   
  
Sherlock glanced into each of the rooms they passed and found nothing of interest. Each room and the bath were all done in a theme of some pastel colour that looked very feminine.  When they got to the last door in the hall, Sherlock carefully opened it and stood in the entrance. 

Like all the others on the floor, this bedroom had been decorated in pale pastels.  This one was in grey, pink, white and green. The polished hardwood floor under the bed had been covered with a light green carpet. It had once made a rather pretty combination but now the room looked like a slaughterhouse.  Nearly every surface including the walls, ceiling and floor were covered with brown smears and spatters of blood.  No attempt had been made to clean anything and it had all rotted and dried in place.

John couldn’t help covering his mouth and nose, though he could smell very little. “Jesus Christ!”  John felt more than a little ill and it wasn’t from morning sickness. 

It was apparent that the blood had been there for a long time.  John turned to Sherlock, who was standing still, staring unblinkingly at the blood patterns.  Suddenly afraid his sentinel was zoning, John touched the detective’s hand, which caused Sherlock to jump.  
  
Coming back to himself, the detective shook his head vaguely and then pointed to the bed and ceiling above it. “The blood looks to be months old.  You can see by the spatters and the amount that two people were killed in the bed.  They were savagely beaten to death by that fireplace poker over there.  Not a very original weapon but effective. I’ll wager that Michael’s prints will be on it and they will match the ones from the shoes and jewellery.” John grimaced at the coldness of the detective’s statement but it was pure Sherlock. 

The detective carefully knelt to decipher the blood spatters and pointed out a smeared area on the carpet beside the bed. Footprints were also clearly visible.  “Look, John.  Plastic was laid down in this area.  It seems Michael wrapped the bodies and carried them away. He must have removed his shoes before he stepped into the hallway since I didn’t detect any blood on the carpet there.  

“I think the kitchen is probably the room to visit next. I expect there will a large freezer there.”  Sherlock stood and stepped back away from the gruesome scene.  An expression of sadness came over his features but went so quickly John almost missed it.  The doctor reached out to his sentinel and picked up feelings of confusion and regret.  This was very uncharacteristic and it worried John. 

“What’s the matter, luv?  What are you thinking about?” 

“It’s just that he’s killed his father. Not just killed him, but eradicated him and his omega. The amount of hate inside him must have been extreme. I know it’s ridiculous and I’ve seen this so many times over the years.”  He turned to look at John. “But this is the first time I’ve encountered this scenario now I’m to be a parent and it just hit me strangely.” 

John nodded in sympathy. “It’s completely understandable you’d feel this way.  It’s closer to home now that you’re going to be a father and you’re feeling empathy for the victims. Trust me, Sherlock, it’s a good thing.”  
  
John smiled at the raised eyebrow and sceptical look he received and took his alpha’s arm.  “Let’s go to the kitchen and then ring Lestrade. I suspect you’re correct about where the bodies have been hidden and it’s time to call in the authorities.”   

The kitchen, like the rest of the house was spotless but with a thin film of dust, just like the rest of the house they’d seen.  There was a commercial sized refrigerator and beside it was a large freezer.  John took a deep breath and braced himself for what he was expecting to see and he wasn’t disappointed. 

When Sherlock carefully opened the freezer door, both bodies had been haphazardly stuffed inside.  It was hard to tell who was who because their clothes and the plastic were completely coated in frozen blood, but it seemed they were still clothed in their sleepwear. 

Sherlock hummed.  “So they were killed the night before they were supposed to leave for the Bahamas.  I’m sure that if we check, their tickets were not used.  I doubt Michael thought that far ahead, despite being much more clever than your average murderer.” 

“But what about the omega’s family?  Why wouldn’t they report her missing?”  
  
”I don’t know but maybe Michael paid them off or he’s falsifying emails to her family the same way he’s been doing for his father.  He's lucky he's got away with it as long as he has, actually.  He must be doing the same thing for any of Justin’s other family, as well.  We’ll simply have to ask him when we find him, won’t we?” Sherlock’s smile was pure predator.   
  
”We finally know who our killer is and he will soon discover that we’ve uncovered his crimes.  He’s going to start making mistakes now that we’re getting closer.” 

The detective spotted a wall phone by the entrance to the kitchen and a pad of paper attached to the wall with a pencil dangling beside it.

“It looks like someone has been writing on this paper. John, I need you to guide me.”  Sherlock removed the paper and held it at an oblique angle to the light to see if he could read what was written.  John gripped his wrist as before while the sentinel examined the paper closely. 

“There’s an address and phone number written here.  It’s been embossed into the paper from the note written on the paper above it.   We may have his address or maybe his accomplice’s address.  Jot this down.”  John copied the address and number Sherlock read to him.  

“Time to ring Lestrade.  Let’s leave and wait for him outside.” 

John placed the call from his mobile and it didn’t take much convincing to get Lestrade on his way.  “From what you’re telling me we have probable cause to enter the premises.  We’ll be down there shortly.  Don’t you let Sherlock go anywhere until I get there, you got that, John? I don’t want you going to that flat’s address without me.” 

“Got it, Greg.  Sherlock’s not going anywhere until you’ve had the chance to speak with him.”  John was trying not to laugh at Sherlock who was making faces in disgust at not being allowed to follow the other lead immediately. 

After he rang off with Lestrade, John suggested that Sherlock ring the number he’d written down from the pad inside. “We can get Mycroft to trace the number as well while we wait.  It might give us some more clues.” 

Sherlock texted the number to Mycroft and requested a trace.  “I’d like to have as much information as we can before I ring the number.  I don’t want to chance tipping off the killer or a possible accomplice before we can find and search that flat.  I suspect the flat is Michael’s and I am hoping that we can catch him at home, if possible.”

Lestrade arrived quickly with his whole team and Sherlock led them into the home.  John could see curtains in the neighbouring houses being pulled aside but no one came out to question them.  These neighbourhoods kept to themselves.  

Within a short time, Lestrade’s people was busily processing the crime scene and yellow police tape was draped across the gate with a constable guarding the front garden. The DI joined the sentinel and guide on the pavement outside the house, looking bleak. “You know we can’t keep this out of the papers any longer, Sherlock.  We’ll have to put an ATL out on Michael Justin and get his photograph on the news once we get our print evidence back.  That will start turning up leads, I’m sure.” 

“I agree, but you don’t have to connect this with the killings of the twins yet.  Once Justin hears of the manhunt, he’ll likely retreat to his lair where he’ll feel safest.  We know for sure now from Morris that he’s down there near the river and we can start searching the warehouses with teams of police.” 

Lestrade nodded and led the way to his car which was parked on the street nearby. “We’ll need to get warrants to search those warehouses.  I’ll arrange that as soon as possible but it could take some time, this close to Christmas. In the meantime, let’s see what we can find at this address you discovered.” 

The address was a flat in a rather desirable part of town.  They checked in with the building manager and asked about the tenant.  The man seemed confused. “Tenant? There’s no tenant in that flat.  Hasn’t been for years.” 

“You mean you’ve never seen anyone go in or out of that flat for years? You’ve never attempted to rent it?” Sherlock was incredulous. 

The man looked vague and shook his head. “I’ve not seen anyone go in or out of that place. Sorry, I can’t help you.”  
  
Something about the way he was behaving seemed very odd to John and he could tell that both Lestrade and Sherlock were picking up on it, as well.  The doctor extended his empathy toward the man, only to find his mind swirling in conflicting thoughts and confusion so severe it was astounding that he was conscious.

“Sherlock, I can’t say this for certain, but I think someone has been doing odd things to his mind.  I don’t have the training to figure out exactly what’s been done, but there’s something really off about his emotions whenever you mention that flat.  We’ve already determined that Justin is a guide and a strong one though untrained.  Elliot might be able to tell us if it is possible for a guide to alter or plant false memories.”  

The man just stood there looking blank for a moment and shook his head as if to clear it.  He then stared at the three men as if he’d never seen them before.  “Yes?  Can I help you gentlemen?”  
  
Lestrade held out his badge to the manager, who looked at it curiously. “Well, that’s pretty clear even to me.  Something fishy is definitely going on here.  And John, I suggest you ring this Mr Elliot of yours and ask him for help. Maybe he can meet us and talk to Mr Hopewell here.  In the meantime, we’d like you to show us to flat #6, if you please, sir.” 

The man shrugged and started up the stairs. John got in contact with Elliot as they ascended the three storeys to the flat.  The doctor apologetically cut off the effusive greetings from the Tower guide and explained quickly what was happening.  

Elliot responded immediately. “Yes, erasing and altering memories can be done.  It’s a very serious breach of ethics, however and is not something any Tower trained guide would ever consider.” 

“Is there anything that you can do? How do you tell for certain if he has had his memories tampered with?”  
  
”I honestly can’t determine that until I see him. I’ll be glad to meet you and speak to Mr Hopewell.  Where are you? I can get a car and I’ll see what can be done.”  Gratefully, John gave him the information and arranged to meet him in the manager’s flat.

”Elliot says he can be here in about twenty minutes.  I can escort Mr Hopewell back to his flat while you two look around.”  Sherlock had already established that no one was inside the flat and took the key from the still confused manager. He then gave the unresisting man a slight push toward John. 

“Excellent idea.  Lestrade and I will take care of things here. I would like to see if you can recover his memories of the tenant.”  He and Lestrade snapped on their gloves before they opened the door to the flat.  As they stepped inside, John peeked in past their shoulders.  The walls were lined with photos of Sherlock.  John recognised some from their websites, some from newspapers and many that had to have been taken by the killer.  A shiver of horror ran down John’s spine. They certainly had found the right place. 

”Let’s go back down to your flat and wait for Mr Elliot.  He’s going to help you.”

The manager looked surprised but headed back down the stairs. “Is something wrong with me? I feel fine.”   
  
“Mr Elliot will be able to see if everything’s okay.  So, have you ever heard of Michael Justin?”  
  
The man shook his head as they entered his flat. It was plain and sparse but tidy. “Can’t say that I have.  Who is he?”  
  
”We think he’s the one who has been living in #6.” 

“But there’s no one in #6, “Mr Hopewell insisted.  
  
”Let’s see if there’s a game on the telly, shall we?”  John changed the subject, sat the man down on the sofa and found a football game for them to watch.  Mr Hopewell was just fine as long as flat #6 wasn’t discussed. 

Elliot showed up about twenty minutes later, slightly breathless.  

John took Elliot’s coat before leading him into the living room. “What do you need?  Is there anything that I can do to help you?”

Elliot shook his head.  “No. If this is what I think it is there will be nothing that I can do aside from simply confirming that someone has altered his memories.  Once the memories have been taken, there’s no getting them back, unfortunately.  From what you told me, this may have been going on for some time.” Nodding grimly, John showed him into a very confused Mr Hopewell’s flat.  

“This is Mr Elliot.  He’s going to talk to you.”  John led Elliot to the sofa and sat beside the two of them to watch in fascination.

“Are you with the police, too?  What is going on in that flat?  My tenants will be worried and I need to ring the building owner.”  The man looked very uncertain as he glanced back and forth between John and Elliot. 

John tried to soothe the man. “I’ll be happy to tell you what’s going on shortly but I’d appreciate it if you would cooperate for Mr Elliot, please.”  

He turned to the other guide. “If you don’t need me, I’m going up to the third floor to see if I can be of any use. When you’re done, please come on up the third storey.”  
  
Elliot nodded and turned to the building manger. ”I just need to touch your wrist for a moment and ask you about the tenant in flat #6, okay?”  Mr Hopewell nodded hesitantly. Elliot reached for his wrist as John left the flat and closed the door quietly behind him. 

As he started for the stairs, he saw a group of forensic police enter the building and directed them to follow him to the third storey.  He recognised a few of them and greeted them by name as they ascended the stairs with their equipment.  

They were soon at the entrance to the flat.  He could hear Lestrade speaking on the phone as he walked inside, followed by the rest of the technicians.  

It was a relatively large, two bedroom flat. Most of the walls were covered floor to ceiling with thousands of photos of Sherlock. 

Other walls were covered with multiple macabre charcoal drawings on very large sheets of paper. They were beautifully rendered and all were of anatomically correct bodies and human organs that had been dissected and deliberately posed.  Most of the drawings consisted of two figures, muscles, veins and nerves dissected, separated out and woven together as if one figure was merging into another to create a kind of monstrosity.  Many were obscene and focussed on sexual acts.  There were hundreds of these drawings and the clear, sick obsession exhibited by the constant repetition of subject matter made the doctor shiver. 

John slipped past Lestrade, who was now off the phone and beginning to direct the incoming technicians on where to start collecting evidence.  The doctor walked into the bedroom where Sherlock was standing, clearly deep in thought. 

John’s hair stood on end and he looked in horror at the photos tacked to the walls of the bedroom. They were of both him and Sherlock and every one of them had been defaced in some awful way. Incredibly vile drawings of John being restrained, tortured, mutilated and vivisected were posted over top of some of damaged photographs.  The worst drawings were the ones where his abdomen was cut open and his reproductive organs pulled out and shredded.  A lot of red chalk had been used in addition to the charcoal for those drawings. 

The doctor felt faint as the room closed in on him and suddenly it was difficult to breathe.  Turning, he walked quickly out of the room and fled past the surprised police technicians and into the hall. 

Leaning against the wall, he gasped for breath and tried to regain his composure.  Hearing footsteps, John glanced back over his shoulder to see Sherlock coming out of the flat, looking pale and grimmer than the doctor had ever seen him. 

“I’m sorry you saw that, John.  Justin is full of hate and rage and it’s not just directed at you any longer, either.  He’s after the both of us now.”   
  
John stared at him in dismay, wondering what, if anything, could be done, but there was nothing that wasn’t already being done. All they could do was continue to look for the sick bastard and hope they could find him before he acted on his fantasies. Sensing what John was feeling, Sherlock took him into his arms and held him close. 

The detective whispered fiercely in John’s ear. “I know this is horrible to be the target of such mental illness, but I’ll find him, John. I promise you, I’ll find him and end him before he can do anything to you.”

John shut his eyes but the images were still there. “I know how you feel, luv. But  ** _we_**  will catch him and find a way to make sure he can’t hurt anyone else.” 

There was a soft cough behind them and they pulled apart.  Elliot had come up the stairs while they were talking and neither one had noticed him.  

Sherlock placed a protective arm around John as they both turned to face the older guide. The doctor spoke first. “So, what did you find? What’s happened to Mr Hopewell?” 

“You were right, John.  Someone has been erasing that man’s memories and doing it brutally and with no care for him at all.  He’ll be fine eventually, as long as he’s not subjected to it much longer.” The guide shook his head sadly. 

“It’s hard to believe that there could be a guide out there with literally no empathy for others. How anyone could do this is simply unthinkable and it frightens me terribly.” 

John had to agree with Elliot.  What Justin had done was beyond frightening. Ripping away someone’s memories was so offensive, the thought of it made John physically ill. 

Elliot’s face was grim as he easily picked up on John’s emotions.  “Your response is an appropriate one in this situation, John.   It’s a miracle Mr Hopewell’s mind isn’t total mush at this point.  The guide who did this is very sick.”  
  
John’s expression turned bleak.  “This guide is a serial killer we have been hunting for months.  I agree that it’s hard to believe a guide could do this but I’ve sensed him watching us and he’s very strong, though untrained.  In that regard, he’s a lot like me and that’s something I want to change.”  
  
Elliot paled at the news.  “This is difficult to accept John, but I believe you.  Anytime you want to receive training you just have to let me know and I’ll be honoured to help you.  Ailbert will be at the Tribunal and he wants the chance to work with you, too. We can discuss that when the time comes.”  

“Guide Elliot.  Thank you for your help, but this goes no further until we catch this man, understood?  I don’t want this to become gossip fodder for the Tower.”  Sherlock spoke harshly. 

“Of course, Sentinel Holmes.  I’ll speak of this to no one. But you should know that someone like this is extremely dangerous to anyone he comes across. It’s not easy to erase memories from people but it’s apparent he’s figured out how and is willing to do this to anyone who gets in his way.  

“When you catch him, you should contact the Tower so we can send trained guides to contain him.  We also have drugs we can administer to mute his abilities. I’d seriously consider this before you try to take him, Sherlock.  John might be a match for him, but he’s not got the training he needs to deal with this person.  

“Even though John thinks your killer has no training either, it doesn’t mean he can’t overwhelm you both by sheer force of will.  That seems to be his mode of operation. Sentinels by nature are very vulnerable to guides.  So please, be careful.”   Elliot looked terribly disturbed and John couldn’t help but feel the same way. 

Sherlock nodded in agreement.  “I’ll advise the police and when we start our hunt for him, I’ll request a sentinel/guide team accompany every search party.  Thank you for coming out here. Is there anything that needs to be done for Mr Hopewell?” 

Elliot shook his head.  “Those memories are gone forever but there’s no physical damage to him, thankfully. It probably wasn’t pleasant for him but he won’t remember and will eventually be fine.” 

John and Sherlock escorted Elliot to his vehicle and watched him drive off.  The temperature was dropping as the sun fell below the horizon.  John huddled closer to Sherlock and shivered. He was tired and felt sick. 

“Did you get everything you needed, Sherlock? If so, I want to go home.” 

“Yes, I think I’ve seen everything.  Lestrade will need time to process both residences and get the warrants together to search the warehouses.   I want him to start arranging to get a court order to freeze Justin’s assets also.  Since we’re near to the holidays, I doubt he’ll be able to get everything arranged until after Boxing Day.”  

Sherlock rubbed his hands together in glee.  “We almost have him, John! We’ll cut off all his sources of income. All major transportation hubs will have his name and photo, so he’ll not be able to leave the country easily. His face will be plastered on the evening news so he’ll be taking a huge risk to put his nose outside.  He’s caught but he just doesn’t know it yet. 

“In the meantime, I think we should pick up some take away and have a quiet night at home.  Then tomorrow, I’ll go with you to the shops.  You’ve not had the chance to do any Christmas shopping yet and we’re leaving for your Mum’s in two days.”  
  
John smiled in relief. The day had been a long one, plus he’d skipped breakfast and they’d been too busy for lunch.  The medication he’d got from Dr Fulton had helped with the nausea but the exhaustion was constant and usually worse at the end of the day. Now, on top of everything, he was positively starving.  

“Dinner and an early night sounds brilliant, Sherlock.  I’d love to do just that. But I know how much you hate going to the shops. I can go by myself, you know.”  
  
”I’d rather you stay close, if you don’t mind. And you can advise me as to what to buy for your mother.” John snorted as the true ulterior motive was revealed. 

Sherlock smirked back and continued.   “Now, if you would please call a cab for us, I’ll just go back and check in with Lestrade.  I want to make sure he doesn’t need anything before we go.”  With that, Sherlock trotted back into the building and up the stairs, leaving John to ring for a taxi to take them home.

As he dialled and waited for the cab company to pick up, all of John’s senses went on high alert and he spun around to face the buildings across the street. Standing in the shadows of the alleyway was a slim, tall figure dressed in a long coat with a hoodie over his head.  

John’s hand holding the phone fell to his side as he immediately recognised the figure he had pursued all those weeks ago.  It was Michael Justin. 

Unsure of exactly what to do, John disconnected from the cab company and dialled Sherlock.  The phone went straight to voicemail and he left a message. “Come down here now, Sherlock.  Justin is across the street.”  Absently, he put away the phone and prepared himself to approach the killer.

Before John could start across the street, Justin moved slightly.  The man pulled a large knife out of the pocket of his coat and turned it back and forth in the light, making sure John could see the sharp metal flash in the street light.  At the same time, the man smiled at him, showing his white teeth in a death’s head grin.  

Chills ran up and down John’s spine and he hesitated to give chase.  He knew there was a strong possibility that he would be injured if he pursued the man and his urge to protect his unborn children nearly overrode everything. He also remembered how Sherlock had reacted the last time he hared off after this man.  However, this was their chance to catch him.  He had to do something.   

Taking in a deep breath, John made his decision and lunged into the street, running straight at the killer.  Strategies were considered and discarded in fractions of a second as he focussed only on the objective of catching this man alive and preventing injury to himself.  

Justin wasn’t moving, except to lower the knife to his side and angle it upward.  John was half way across the street when he heard the roar of an engine.  Glancing to his left, he saw a car screech out from where it was parked on the street and race straight at him at high speed.  At the same time he heard Sherlock yell from behind him and he hesitated for just a fraction of a second.  
  
That fraction nearly cost him his life but he finally managed to take the few steps necessary to cross the street and threw himself up and onto the bonnet of a parked vehicle directly in front of him.  John flailed and rolled across the slick metal as the vehicle roaring after him veered into and sideswiped the parked car so hard it lurched up and onto the pavement. 

The shriek of metal as it crumpled and tore was colossal and disorienting. John was catapulted off the bonnet and down onto the pavement by the force of the crash. He landed better than he’d hoped but his head and upper back hit the pavement hard and he rolled out of control. There was a flash of pain in his head and he saw spots as the momentum from the collision threw him against the wall of the building.  

Footsteps were coming toward him but he was stunned and couldn’t move well.  His hearing was off and so was his vision. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion.  John managed to turn over and get shakily to his feet.  He tried to ready himself for a fight but he had to use the wall of the building to steady himself.  

Justin was not ten feet away with the knife held out menacingly but John could also see from the corner of his eye that Sherlock and Lestrade were pelting across the street.  It was clear the mad man was torn between deciding to escape or killing John. Vaguely, John thought he heard someone yelling at Justin from the vehicle that had nearly crushed him.  

Finally, Justin made a decision.  He snarled in frustration and dove into the open door of the car, which then sped off, tyres squealing.  Lestrade was on his phone, breathlessly reading the number plate off to someone on the other end and Sherlock was heading straight for John. 

Before the alpha could reach him, John’s knees gave way and he collapsed boneless on the pavement.  His vision narrowed, then went black and voices sounded very far away. He felt as if he was floating and it was a very weird sensation. Something told him he should be alarmed but he was too tired to worry about it.  

He sensed urgent movement and voices, but couldn’t do anything.  Some time seemed to pass and then he was blinking up into the face of his extremely frantic alpha.  

Raising a hand to his head, he asked, “What happened? Bloody hell, that hurts.”  It was clear he was inside an ambulance parked outside the building where Justin had lived.  

“John!  John, are you with me?” 

The doctor tried to sit up, but was immediately pushed down by both Sherlock and the paramedic.  He squinted up at her and then grinned.  “Hey, Gloria! How’s Kath doing?”  He’d got on a first name basis with a lot of paramedics since he started working with Sherlock.  
  
The omega smiled down at him. “She’s fine and now has two new teeth.”  
  
”Wow! That’s great! They grow up so fast.” John shut his eyes because everything hurt.  He could practically hear Sherlock roll his eyes. 

“John.  How do you feel?” John didn’t want to open his eyes because he knew he was in trouble again. 

“Open your eyes. Keeping them closed will not get you out of trouble.” Sherlock’s voice was stern but there was a wobble to it that the doctor didn’t like.  Sighing, John did as he was told.  Gloria shined a light into them, which hurt and he told her so.  “Ow.”  
  
”Both pupils equal and reactive.  I think your collapse was less from the head injury than adrenalin combined with low blood sugar and dehydration.  When did you last eat?” 

John shook his head to try to clear it and immediately regretted it. The back of his head hurt a lot.  He felt really tired and wanted to go back to sleep.  “Last night? Been having trouble keeping stuff down. Just started taking meds for nausea.”  

“I think you’re fine but I’d recommend you go to hospital to be sure.  They can give you something for the dehydration and see that you eat.” 

“Sherlock will look after me. I don’t want to go to hospital. We’re meant to get take away and have an early night.” John felt petulant and then tired. He closed his eyes again. 

“Gloria, I’ll be responsible for him. We’ve got a lot of experience with head injuries and concussions.  I’ll see to it he eats something and gets some fluids.”  
  
The paramedic was hesitant but gave in.  “You know what to look for and call an ambulance at the first sign of trouble.”  She stared at Sherlock until he acknowledged her and she nodded.  

“Okay, then. Let him stay here for a bit longer. I’ve got some snacks around here somewhere.”  She rummaged around and pulled out a small carton with a straw attached. “Here’s some orange juice.  Make him drink it before you go.” 

Sherlock quickly obeyed her and made John drink the entire thing. He felt better immediately and was able to sit up without things spinning.  His head hurt and he raised a hand to the area where he’d impacted the pavement. There was quite a goose-egg there but the skin hadn’t broken, thankfully. 

”Okay, John.  Lestrade is waiting to take us home.  Up you get!” Sherlock helped John from the ambulance and led him to Lestrade’s car.  

“Did you get the number plate of the car that almost hit me?”  Lestrade glanced back over his shoulder at John, who was cuddled up against Sherlock in the back seat with his eyes closed.  
  
”Yeah, but it turned up stolen. I’m not surprised. I expect we’ll find it abandoned somewhere.  I’d love to know who it was that drove the car, though.  He nearly killed you!”  
  
Sherlock replied. ”I think it’s the ginger alpha that Morris mentioned. The one that acts as Justin’s accomplice.  I could see that his hair was red when he drove past us.”  John could feel slight tremors running through Sherlock’s body and immediately felt incredibly guilty. He was responsible for frightening his alpha and he was going to hear about it.    
  
They’d had that particular conversation once before about John trying to take on the killer alone.  He wasn’t looking forward to the one they’d have once they arrived home.  

But Sherlock stayed silent all the way home aside from thanking Lestrade and wishing him a happy Christmas.  Sherlock deposited John on the sofa and prepared tea for them both, watching to make sure John ate some digestives.  They had rung for take away as they neared their flat and it arrived just as John was finishing his tea.  

He was feeling much better and more alert, so he made his way into the loo to check his head and back where he’d hit the pavement.  The bump needed some ice and he’d have a nice bruise on his upper back, but otherwise he was just fine.  He wandered into the kitchen to get a cold compress just as Sherlock finished setting out the cutlery and plates for their dinner. 

Dinner was completely silent and John began to worry.  Once they’d eaten, Sherlock left everything on the table and ushered John onto the sofa. Thankfully, he wasn’t pulling away emotionally like he’d done last time they’d argued.  That had hurt a lot and John had been expecting Sherlock to do it again. He was incredibly grateful that he’d not done so and the doctor was more than willing to face whatever was coming. 

Once they were sitting comfortably, Sherlock spoke.  “I’ll get right to the point. You have consistently placed yourself and our unborn children in danger around this mad man. I don’t understand it but I’ve accepted that this is who you are and there is no way to prevent it aside from never leaving your side until he is caught.   
  
Sherlock didn’t hesitate to pull out the big guns and John cringed.  “As your alpha, I want you to hear this as my omega.  I don’t want you involved in this case any longer.  I need you to stay home and not go anywhere without me until Justin is caught.  When we do leave the flat, I want you with me at all times.”  
  
John was actually surprised that that was all Sherlock wanted. He agreed immediately with one caveat. “If you need me as your guide when you’re searching those warehouses, I want you to ring me.”

“I will, but there will be sentinel/guide teams with us and I’m sure one of them will help if necessary.” 

John digested that for a while. He wasn’t happy about it but Sherlock was right.  “That will have to do. And I’m sorry for scaring you, Sherlock but I felt like I had to do something and you know I can handle myself.” 

At the alpha’s scathing look, he amended, “I can  _usually_  handle myself, anyway.” 

Sherlock shook his head. “That’s just it, John. You don’t realise how much the twins are taking from you yet. Your reserves are depleted by a few weeks of constant nausea.  You become exhausted so quickly. This is something that you have to consider before you take on anything.  Can I please count on you to do as I ask? Stay out of this case and stay home unless I’m with you? For me and our children?”

“Of course, luv.  I promise.  I’ll do whatever it takes to keep myself and our children safe.  I wasn’t thinking and I’m so sorry.”  It seemed he was doing a lot of apologising for not thinking lately.  But he regretted just how much he’d upset and frightened Sherlock.  He’d never meant for that to happen and he just hoped he’d never be in a position to do it again.  
  
”Christmas is in a few days and I’d like to go shopping with you tomorrow.  Lestrade said he’d keep me updated on things and I’ll be sure to share everything with you. I don’t want to completely shut you out of things.”  
  
”That’s fine, Sherlock. I don’t mind.  There’s a lot to do before Christmas and then we’ll be at Mum’s until Boxing Day. I think you’ll enjoy yourself at Mum’s.  I know she’s looking forward to meeting you. And you’ll get to meet, Clara, too.  She’s amazing.”  He wrapped his arms around his alpha, buried his face in Sherlock's neck and held on tight. 

Sherlock returned the embrace and kissed John’s hair.  “I’m sure I’ll find something to do while I'm there.  So, let’s have that early night.  I find that having to watch you almost get killed is exhausting.” 

John snorted in laughter, but had to agree. He’d been on the other side of that one too many times himself. 

”I’ll do my best to stay out of trouble, Sherlock. I promise.”  
  
”I know you will, John.  It's just that trouble seems to be finding you all too often lately.”

The doctor couldn’t argue with that.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you all so much for your lovely comments and kudos. Each and every one is greatly appreciated. Thank you all for your patience, also. RL is keeping me busy and I'll update as I can, though I think I'll be lucky to update once a week from this point. RL permitting, I'll try to do better if possible.
> 
> Again, thank you all so much and I hope you continue to enjoy the story.

They did not get to John’s Mum’s house until Christmas morning.  Sherlock and John had barely finished their shopping and returned home when Lestrade rang and requested the detective’s presence on the case. 

While John stayed safely at home, Sherlock had worked all through that night and far into Christmas Eve with Lestrade, tracking down Justin’s various bank accounts and preparing evidence for the search warrants.  

The computer they had found at Justin’s flat had a wealth of information on it but it had taken some inventive hacking on Sherlock’s part to follow the money trail that Justin had left. Apparently, the man was good at covering his tracks but not good enough to keep Sherlock out.  John was proud of his alpha, but Sherlock was exhausted when he’d returned home and so they’d delayed their trip.  

Mycroft had managed to trace the phone number Sherlock had found at the elder Justin’s residence to a Huw White but the number had been disconnected and there was no known address.  Lestrade had turned up an extensive criminal record on Mr White though, as well as some photos. He was mostly known for GBH, burglary and car theft and had spent considerable time in prison. He also had two enhanced senses: smell and hearing, but the most distinctive thing about the alpha was his flaming red hair. 

It seemed that Huw White was the ginger alpha Morris had mentioned and was also the one who had tried to kill John with the stolen car.  Why Justin would be connected with a known criminal was an interesting question, but it made sense that he would need help with his ‘projects’.  Was White a completely willing accomplice? Was he helping Justin because the man was paying him well or was there some other, more sinister, reason he was helping a killer?  That was something that they would only discover once they’d apprehended both men. 

The next step in the investigation would be the search of the warehouses once they got the search warrants.  That would take time and John had to report to the Tribunal two days after Boxing Day.  It was going to be a hectic week and he wasn’t looking forward to it.  He just wanted to take one day at a time and enjoy his holiday with his family before he had to start worrying again. 

Finally they were standing on the front steps of the Watson home, which was a charming two storey cottage.  It was a sunny morning and there was a slight dusting of snow on the ground. As John reached for the doorknob, he turned to Sherlock, who was coming up behind him, carrying their bags, while John had all the gifts. 

“Okay. Just three rules at Mum’s house: never refuse tea that Mum offers you, never go into the kitchen unless strictly invited and no short jokes. Okay?”  
  
Sherlock looked confused but nodded. “Fine. Whatever. Let’s go inside. It’s cold out here.” John chuckled and opened the door, leading the way into the front foyer. 

As he entered the house, he shouted out, “Hi, Mum, I’m home! Happy Christmas!”  There was an indistinct reply from the end of a surprisingly long hall.  

The walls of the foyer and hall were practically lined floor to ceiling with framed family photos and Sherlock took a few steps away to look at the pictures of John that had been arranged to depict him growing up from infant to adult.  The detective had a huge grin on his face as he spotted the baby photos.  

John snagged him before he could get too far.  “Give me your coat and then you can gawp all you like.”  Sherlock put down the luggage and shrugged out of his coat, absently handing John his scarf as well and went back to looking at the photos.  

John opened the hall cupboard door only to have the hoover fall out onto his shoes.  Sighing, he left it there while he hung up the coats in the crowded cupboard and then shoved the machine back inside.  As he did so, a bag of Christmas bows and some rolls of wrapping paper slid out and he barely managed to catch them as the hoover fell out again, this time slamming into his knee. 

“Ow! Bloody hell! That hurts!”  Sherlock didn’t react, completely wrapped up in looking at embarrassing photos of John. 

Grumbling and rubbing at his injured knee, John finally managed to stuff everything back into the cupboard and get the door closed before it all fell out again. He pressed his back against the door and wiped his forehead in relief.   Sherlock looked back at him and sniggered.  He then squinted his eyes at John and gave the omega a look of affronted disgust. 

“John, why did you have to wear that particular jumper? It’s making my eyes hurt.” 

The doctor looked down at what he was wearing. “What’s wrong with it? It’s green and red with snowflakes on it. It’s very seasonal.” 

“John, the snowflakes are red. Blood red. It’s hideous.”  Sherlock was giving him that severely disapproving look but the doctor simply shrugged. 

“I would have thought you’d like blood coloured snowflakes. Anyway, I’m not changing it. Come on and meet my mum.”   
  
They walked to the end of the hall and peeked into the doorway at the left.  It was the entrance to the kitchen.  Standing at the large sink on a step stool was a very short, grey haired woman wrestling with a goose that looked to be nearly her size. She was wearing jeans and a jumper that matched John’s for ugliness, but it was partly covered with a checked apron. The repeating pattern seemed to be mud coloured snow men. 

Sherlock was blinking his eyes in aversion against the sight of it. John elbowed him and chirped brightly, “Hi, Mum. This is Sherlock.  Sherlock, this is my Mum, Jenny Watson. Need any help?”  
  
The woman glanced back over her shoulder and blew a wisp of hair out of her eyes.  She had John’s nose and lips. “Hi, John.  No, I don’t need your help, thanks, though. Hope traffic wasn’t too bad.  

“Nice to meet you, Sherlock. Sorry but I’m up to my armpits in goose guts or I’d come over there and greet you properly.  That damn butcher never cleans these birds out right and I end up having to do it myself every time.  And don’t even get me started about all the pin feathers!” She waved a rather wicked looking knife and John was glad the butcher was nowhere in sight.    
  
“John, put your bags up in your room and go spend some time with your sister and Clara. I’ll be out with some tea before too long.”  With that, Mrs Watson went back to tussling with the goose.  John looked up at Sherlock, whose eyes were now quite large in surprise.  
  
He turned to the doctor and whispered, “John, you never told me that your mother was a midget but it explains quite a lot, actually.”  
  
John elbowed him again and whispered back.  “Git. She’s not a midget. That’s considered to be a pejorative word these days.  Not politically correct and the proper term is ‘little person’.  Anyway, she’s just really short.” 

“John, she’s just over half my height,” Sherlock argued. 

“You’re barely six feet tall. That would mean she was only three feet tall, Sherlock! Mum’s a little under five feet. She just  _looks_  really small.” John hissed as they walked into the parlour. Sherlock gave him a dubious glance but followed him into the room. 

It had been decorated for the season with lots of ivy and holly garlands draped about and mistletoe in each doorway.  A moderately sized tree was placed in front of the large picture window and it too had been attractively decorated with lots of fairy lights, ornaments, tinsel and what looked like a rather fat angel on top.  

Harry was sitting on the sofa, feet on the coffee table, playing a game on her phone and wearing another very dreadful jumper. John saw that Sherlock quickly averted his eyes.  Clara was seated in one of the recliners and had her lap full of knitting.  Her jumper was a solid grey colour and was actually rather nice. 

Glancing up briefly from her game, Harry muttered something indecipherable before going back to it.    
  
“Hi, to you too, Sis!” John waved, then ignored Harry with the ease of long practice and went straight over to Clara, who gave him her usual multi-megawatt smile.  “Don’t get up, luv.  It’s so wonderful to see you!  Happy Christmas!”  He bent down to give her a huge hug.  

“Clara, I’d like you to meet Sherlock.  Sherlock, this is my sister, Clara Abdi-Watson Come over here, Sherlock. She won’t bite you unless you ask nicely.”  
  
Sherlock rolled his eyes as Clara laughed at the stupid joke and held out her hand to the detective.  Sherlock gently took it and gave her a genuine smile.  

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Clara. I’ve heard wonderful things about you but no one told me you were the source of the ubiquitous Watson jumpers.” 

“It’s just wonderful to finally meet you, too, Sherlock. Yes, I’ve so enjoyed learning how to knit. It’s great for keeping my fingers from stiffening up. Everyone in the family has been so appreciative, too.” She held up her latest effort, a strange combination of eye searing blue, yellow and orange.  The pattern seemed to be cavorting reindeer. 

“John gave me your measurements so this one is for you. I’m sorry it’s not finished yet but work at the firm has been so busy lately, I’ve not been able to find the time. But I’ll have it done tonight, I promise.” 

John smothered a laugh as he watched Sherlock wrestle with his total horror at the jumper and his desire to be nice to Clara.  He managed to put a smile on his face and thanked Clara in a mostly believable way.  John heard Harry snort at the pathetic attempt but she didn’t say anything else, and thankfully Clara didn’t notice.  

“Clara, it’s gorgeous and I’ll see that he wears it often.” John smiled seraphically at the detective as Sherlock shot a glare at him.  “Come on, luv, let’s put our bags in my room and then we can come down for tea and chat some more.” 

Sherlock practically stepped on his heels as he followed John up the narrow staircase and down the hall to their room.  “Why is your sister muttering about killing pigs?”  
  
John shook his head and laughed.  “I’ll explain later.  Come on. My room’s down the hall, right by the loo.” 

His mum had replaced his old bed with a new full size mattress but it took up most of the room now.  John managed to squeeze between the end of the bed and wall and over to the cupboard where he carefully opened it and managed to catch the old board games that came sliding out before they crashed completely to the ground.   Once he’d sorted out Sherlock’s garment bag and stuffed everything back into the cupboard, he turned around to see his alpha watching him closely.  

“What? Do I have something on my face?”  
  
”No, you’re fine.  Clara’s family is from Somalia. It was a landmine, I take it? 

John slithered around the end of the bed and sat down near Sherlock. “Oh. Oh, yes. I forgot you didn’t know. She was out with some school friends and one of them stepped on it. Her friends didn’t make it but Clara survived.  She was twelve when her family came to the UK to get medical treatment for her.  The doctors managed to save one leg and most of her fingers, surprisingly. 

“It was Mum taught her how to knit. It keeps the dexterity in her hands without causing any real stress to them. And we’re all the happy recipients of her efforts.”  John gestured grandly to his jumper and grinned at his alpha, who was still rather dismayed that he was going to have to wear one of Clara’s creations. 

Sherlock thought for a bit more and nodded. “She’s a lawyer.  She has her own firm.  Immigration law?”

“You’re amazing!  But I knew that.”  Sherlock preened and John gave him a congratulatory kiss.  “Yes, but she volunteers a lot of her time to the International Red Cross and Crescent whenever she can. They were the ones who sponsored her family and brought her here when she was injured.” 

He shook his head in amused disbelief.  “Clara’s the strongest, most beautiful person I’ve ever met, inside and out.”  When Sherlock arched an eyebrow at him, John nudged his alpha with his shoulder.  “Aside from you, of course. That goes without saying.”  Sherlock smiled and nudged him back.  

“Anyway, I don’t honestly know what she sees in Harry, but Clara’s just incredible with her.  She arranged their reconciliation and Harry has been sober now longer than she ever has been in her entire adult life. And it’s all because of Clara.  Mum and I adore her and are so grateful to her for being willing to take care of Harry like she has.”

“It sounds as if you like Clara better than your own sister.”  Sherlock was teasing John but the doctor answered semi-seriously. 

“If she ever leaves Clara again, I’m divorcing Harry as my sister and adopting Clara. So you’re right there.”  He stood up and stretched.   

“Come on, let’s go down and see if Mum has finished with that goose.  I need to put these gifts under the tree, too.”  
  
They made their way down again and Sherlock sat on the sofa near Clara but kept glancing uneasily over at Harry as she killed pigs with angry birds.  John tried to explain but Sherlock wasn’t particularly interested.  Instead he talked with Clara about her family and growing up in Africa.   
  
John kept getting up to check on his Mum, who wouldn’t allow him to step foot in the kitchen until she had the goose stuffed and in the oven.  She finally finished washing up and came over to give him a proper hug and kiss.  John loved his mum’s hugs. Nothing was better, even though she still smelled a bit like raw goose. 

She hugged him tight and kissed his cheeks and he returned it all with interest. His heart swelled with love for her.  “Happy Christmas, John! Oh, it’s good to see you. I’ve missed you so much!  You’ll have to tell me what you and Sherlock have been up to lately.  And then we can discuss the upcoming bonding ceremony!” 

John didn’t mind discussing certain aspects of the case they were working on, but the bonding ceremony was different. He had hoped to avoid that particular subject but it was apparently the favourite topic of the month with his mum and sisters, so he would just have to grin and bear it.  “I’ll be glad to fill you in on the case we’re working, if you like, though there are some things we can’t talk about yet.  May I help you with the tea?”   

Chatting about the weather, the neighbours and various relatives, Mrs Watson allowed John to help her with tea and permitted him to carry everything into the lounge. There was an amazing selection of John’s favourite home baked biscuits and his mouth watered. His mum had made them all for him.  He loved Christmas. 

Sherlock stood as she entered and damned if the alpha was almost right about the size difference.  John knew his mum wasn’t quite 5 feet tall but she looked miniscule compared to Sherlock. He watched the two of them face off as he set the tea on the coffee table, kicking Harry’s feet off of it first. 

Mrs Watson stood with her hands on her hips and craned her neck to stare up at the detective. “Well, Sherlock. It’s nice to finally meet you, lad. John never said you were gorgeous. Harry just said you were annoying.”  She looked him up and down and grinned. “And aren’t you just a tall drink of water! How’s the weather up there?”  
  
Sherlock raised an eyebrow at John and then nodded politely to his mother-in-law. “It’s very nice to finally meet you, Mrs Watson.  John, we must discuss your rule number three. If I cannot tell any short jokes, it’s only fair that she not tell any tall jokes.”  

John felt his face go hot in horror and he rolled his eyes over at his mum, mortified that she might be angry or hurt by Sherlock’s words.  

Instead she started laughing so hard she had to sit down. Sherlock raised his other eyebrow at her and she laughed even harder. John could tell his alpha was trying hard to suppress a smile.  
  
Wiping her eyes, she finally got her breath back and grinned at John and Sherlock. 

“Thanks for that, I’ve not laughed that hard in months. Sherlock, I can understand what John sees in you and you’re going to fit right into the family. Call me Mum or Jenny, whatever works best for you.  

“Sit down and have some tea.  Harriet, put that damn game away. Make yourself useful and be mother.”   
  
Harry grumbled but poured tea for everyone. Once they were all settled, the conversation turned toward the upcoming bonding ceremony.  John just sat back and let the three women talk about everything.  Interjecting a ‘yes?’ here and an ‘oh really?’ there was pretty much all that was required of him.  Sherlock was looking more and more horrified as they went on about their plans, though. 

John leaned over to him and whispered in his ear. “Welcome to my world. You’ll get used to it. Eventually.”  Somehow this did not reassure his alpha.

Grand-maman Holmes was in charge of the venue, which included the flowers.  Surprisingly, catering was going to be a group effort between Mrs Watson and Monique. Thankfully they would each be using their own kitchens so John was relieved to know that war between England and France would be averted. Harry was hunting for a photographer and Clara was taking care of the guest list.  

Apparently at some point in the conversation, Sherlock and John somehow agreed that they would escort Mrs Watson, Harry and Clara to France to meet Mrs Holmes sometime in the future.  John was resigned to it, but Sherlock was surreptitiously looking for the exits.  John caught his eye and shook his head, backing it up with a glare of death.  The alpha reluctantly subsided and his eyes slowly glazed over. 

When the subject turned to dresses and shoes, Clara spoke up. “John, what are you going to be wearing?  Have you decided yet?  I think that, before we make a final decision about clothes, we should know what you’re going to wear so we can compliment your outfit.”  
  
This was the kind of thing he had hoped to avoid.  Sherlock had picked up catalogues for bonding and maternity outfits from Mark’s shop when he’d paid for John’s suit but neither one had had the chance to really look through them yet.   

“I’m not sure, Clara.  I think something classic and plain would be best but I was planning on discussing it with Sherlock first.  I really don’t know what his thoughts are, to be honest. What do you think, luv?”   
  
John grinned at the brief look of panic on Sherlock’s face but then the detective narrowed his eyes and his expression turned devious.  That look wiped the smile off John’s face because it never meant anything good. 

“Well, John is right.  I think we’ll be choosing something plain and classic.  Actually, if the decision was up to me, I’d choose a traditional bonding robe for him.” 

It was as if Sherlock had dropped a grenade in the room and the doctor covered his face.  In his head John started the countdown. Mrs Watson cocked her head to one side with a confused expression, while Clara and Harry exchanged very surprised glances. 

“But Sherlock, traditional bonding robes are only for pregnant omegas… **oh my god**! You’re pregnant! John, why didn’t you tell me? My baby is having a baby!”  Mrs Watson flew out of her seat and threw herself into John’s arms and started to cry. 

John hugged her back hard and buried his face in her hair with a sigh.  This wasn’t exactly how he’d planned to tell his family, but whatever.  “Mum! It’s okay! We were going to tell you, but we just haven’t had the chance.”  He glared at a smug Sherlock over his mum’s shoulder and mouthed ‘git”.  He was finding that word very useful today. 

Harry was very surprised but genuinely happy and slapped him on the back. “Well done, little brother! You’re preggers!!”  

Clara held out her arms to him and he left his mother seated the sofa to kneel and gently embrace his sister-in-law. She was crying tears of joy for him as he hugged her tightly.  John sat back just in time to see his mum give Sherlock a congratulatory kiss on the cheek and whisper something in his ear that made his eyes widen and face flush in embarrassment.    
  
Jenny returned to her seat and wiped her eyes as everyone finally calmed down.  “This news is the best Christmas gift I’ve ever received, John, Sherlock. Thank you for sharing this with us.  So, when is he or she due?”

“Yes, little brother.  Tell us all about it.”  Harry had a leer on her face but John just poked her in the side, which had always made her shriek.  It worked very well this time too and she subsided. 

Glancing over at Sherlock for support got him nowhere as the alpha’s ears were still red from whatever John’s mum had said to him. So it was up to John. 

“Well, actually, we’re having twins and they’re due the middle of July.”  His mum gasped and covered her mouth in excitement.  

“l do hope you know that means I’ll be moving in with you for a few months then, John.  You’re going to need a lot of help at first.” 

John blinked at her. Mrs Hudson had said his mum would probably want to come live with him but he thought she’d been kidding.  “Mum, I don’t think that’s necessary and the flat is too small.  There’re only two bedrooms and nowhere for you to sleep if the babies are in the second bedroom.”  
  
”Nonsense! I’ll take the second bedroom. You’ll want the babies in your room with you at first so you can feed them every two hours.  Either that or you’ll come here. There’s plenty of room.”  
  
Sherlock’s eyes had widened and he shook his head a tiny bit, just enough for John to see it. There was no way a cradle with two babies would ever fit in Sherlock’s bedroom and they certainly weren’t going to leave London.  If anything, John would have to sleep in the babies’ room for a while and he really didn’t want to be away from Sherlock.  Anyway, it was much too early to even think about all that yet. 

“Let’s not worry about that now, Mum.  There’s plenty of time to decide later.  In the meantime, I can smell that goose cooking.  Is there anything I can do to help you?”  He was desperate to try to change the subject. 

“Oh, you’re right.  I need to start preparing the vegetable dishes.  Put your feet up, dear.  You’re having babies!! I’m so excited I can barely stand it! 

“Come on, Harry, Clara. You too, Sherlock. Get your arses up and give me some help.  I want dinner ready by half four.”  Harry grumbled as she got to her feet but helped Clara up and both went into the kitchen willingly enough.  Sherlock looked back at John pitifully as if he were being led to his execution. Jenny latched onto his arm and dragged the sentinel into the kitchen despite his protests. 

Jenny poked her head back into the parlour.  “Why don’t you put on the telly?  The Queen’s speech should be on in an hour and then there’s a show I want to see.  Dinner should be ready after that, so you rest now, luv.”  She went into the kitchen practically vibrating with excitement. 

John stretched out on the sofa and immediately fell asleep.  He missed the Queen’s speech and woke in time to help Sherlock set the table for dinner.   

The house smelled amazing and his mum had cooked all his and Harry’s favourite holiday dishes.  Homemade smoked salmon and mushroom pate for starters, goose with sausage dressing and gravy, bread sauce,  Brussels sprouts with bacon, roasted potatoes, carrots and parsnips with rosemary for the main dishes and of course there was a Christmas pudding for afters.   

As always, his mum had cooked enough for an army and John paced himself.   His stomach was still a bit iffy but he was able to eat a bit of everything and even had seconds of the roasted vegetables.   The pudding was divine but he could only eat a small piece because it was so rich. 

Jenny watched with a critical eye.  “I remember when I was pregnant with your sister. Could barely get anything down for months.  I didn’t have the same trouble with you, though.  Gained too much weight. The doctors fussed at me!  I told them all to go to hell, though.  I never had trouble losing the weight.” 

That was something that John had wondered about.  He did have a tendency to put on weight when he wasn’t as active and worried a bit about that.  “How did you do it, Mum? Lose the weight, that is?” It was just occurring to him that there were a lot of questions he wanted to ask his mum. 

“I lost it running around after you and your sister! I think you’ll be doing the same thing, mark my words, so I wouldn’t worry about it.”  She reached over and took his hand.  “If you’re up to it, I’d like you to help me clean up.  I’ll get these others to bring everything into the kitchen and when they’re all done, you and I can chat.”   
  
Grateful that he was going to get his mum alone for a while, he quickly agreed.  It didn’t take long to get every thing cleared from the table and coffee made and served.  Then he was finally alone in the kitchen with his mum as they washed dishes together. 

“I hate to admit it, but I’m scared to death, Mum.” John started as he dried the plates Jenny handed him. 

“If you weren’t scared, I’d be worried about you, John. It’s a huge thing, bringing new life into the world.  An enormous responsibility and so many do it without even thinking. But most of us turn out okay. 

“I know you and Sherlock will do fine. You’re both good people and will do your best. And in the long run, that’s all anyone can ask is that you try your best.  You know I’ll always help and Harry and Clara will be there if you need them.” 

John nodded.  He’d known all that but it was nice to hear it confirmed. “My landlady, Mrs Hudson has offered to help, too. So I think we’ll be fine.”  He turned and smiled down at her.  “Thanks Mum. It means everything to me to know you’re there for me.”   
  
”I’ll be there whenever you need me, luv.” She returned the smile, bumped him with a hip and got back to washing dishes.  John could hear Harry, Sherlock and Clara talking in the other room, but not what they were discussing.  

The doctor was actually thrilled that Sherlock was getting along so well with Clara and Harry.  He seemed absolutely fascinated with Clara and had spent a lot of time talking to her at dinner.  Harry had chimed in with appropriate dinner conversation, too. He had enjoyed himself more at Christmas than he had in years.     

He was so deep in thought that it took him a moment to realise his mum was speaking to him again. ”I’m sorry, what did you say, Mum?” 

“I said, does he treat you well? Your alpha?  Is he good to you?  He’s different to you, being so posh and all.  How about his family?  Do they accept you?”  
  
Sherlock’s family was one subject he didn’t really want to get into if he could avoid it. “Sherlock is perfect for me and treats me with respect and as his equal.  He can be a child when one of his moods hit, but that’s changing for the better since we bonded. However, there’s a fair bit of the stereotypical sentinel “Blessed Protector” behaviour happening at the moment and it is a bit frustrating.  It's because of this case we've been working on for months.  

“The job we do is often dangerous.  Sharing the danger was a large part of what brought us together but he’s gone a bit overboard with his protectiveness lately.  I’m not complaining because he’s right. I need to change my behaviour and try to stay out of hazardous situations until the children are born.  I can’t risk them and some of the things I’ve done lately haven’t been safe. So he’s asked me to step back from the case we’re working on and I agreed.”  
  
Jenny shook her head.  “You always were the one who just rushed in and did what you thought was right, no matter how risky it was.  The skinned knees, black eyes and bloody noses you had!  Not to mention the broken bones. I blame you for every grey hair I have, by the way.  I should have given you the middle name of ‘Dangerous’ rather than Hamish.”  
  
John chuckled. “I sometimes wish you had done! Dr John ‘Dangerous’ Watson. Has a nice ring to it and I wouldn’t get as much crap from people for having the worst middle name ever!”  
  
His mum sniffed and then winked at him. “You’re lucky! Your father wanted to name you Rex instead of John! You could have been Rex Hamish, so you owe me, young man.” 

John groaned.  “Thanks ever so, Mum. Oh, god. Names.  I have to start thinking about that, too. Though I did promise Sherlock’s grandmum I’d name my first after her. Her name’s Fabienne.”

His mother nodded. “I think that’s a fantastic idea, luv. That’s a lovely name and I can tell that Sherlock loves his grandmum, just from the way he smiles when we mention her. And it will work for a boy or girl.”  

She handed him one of the larger pots to dry and arched an eyebrow at him.  “So, his family.  Do they accept you? You’re from such different classes. Don’t think I’ve not noticed you didn’t answer my question yet.” 

John lowered his head and sighed.  “His family wasn’t thrilled at first.  His mother was insistent that he bond with an omega she’d picked out for him and his brother was to see to it that Sherlock followed orders.”  The hurt he’d felt at the cruel way he’d learnt about it all from Mycroft still hit him at unexpected times. 

He saw his mother start to get concerned on his behalf and he quickly continued.  “But Sherlock refused her outright and insisted that I be his bond mate.  Sherlock stood up for me every step of the way. His mum’s not happy with either of us at the moment, but she’ll come around.  Sherlock’s dad is brilliant, though.  He’s not around much but he’s very kind and accepted me completely right away.  

“It took finding out that I’m an omega guide to get Sherlock’s brother to accept me but he helped me when I needed it. So we’re fine with each other and I expect Mycroft will be a large part of our children’s lives.” John didn’t want to have to explain the fight with Fitzhugh where Mycroft ended up with a gunshot wound in order to save John’s life.  Some things his mother didn’t need to know. 

“Can Sherlock provide well for you? With two babies on the way and at your age, you shouldn’t be working, you know.”  
  
John blushed. ”I know and I’m not working now. I don’t like being so dependent on him but Sherlock understands and is taking good care of me.  The money we get for solving cases would probably be more than enough but he’s inherited some money, too.”  John was reluctant to tell his mother that his bond mate would eventually become an earl and inherit numerous estates as well as a place in the House of Lords. That would be a bit too much at the moment. 

She handed John the last dish and dried her hands.  “I’m glad to hear that, John. I do worry sometimes though I know you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself. 

“You and I haven’t always seen eye to eye about a lot of things in the past.  But I’ve tried to support your decisions and when you wanted to live as a beta, become a doctor and go into the military, I backed you all the way. I agreed with you that registering as a non-guide empath and beta was the best way to go about it, even though it meant you had to live a lie.  

“And you’ve done everything you’ve set your mind to and more.  I’m so proud of you, John. But I have to say that I’m very glad you’re finally able to live as who you were born to be.” 

She held out her arms and John bent down to embrace her. She kissed and hugged him tight. “You’ll always be my baby. In the long run, all a mother really wants is for her kids to be happy.” 

John’s eyes got a bit wet. “Thanks, Mum. Even though I’m really scared right now, I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life.” 

She tightened her hug and gave him another kiss before letting go, eyes shining.  “You’ll be fine, luv.  Now let’s go and exchange gifts. I think Sherlock might need a break from those two.” 

Arm in arm, they left the kitchen smiling and entered the parlour only to see Sherlock standing in the middle of the room with Harry’s phone in one hand,  holding it high above her head while she jumped up and down, trying to force him to return it. Clara was laughing so hard she was crying. Harry was indignant. “Give it back, you posh sod!  The bastard’s beaten all my high scores, Mum!” 

Sherlock sneered. “Your top scores in Fruit Ninja were pathetic. An infant could have beaten them.”   He continued to hold the phone away from her until Mrs Watson spoke up. 

“Seriously, children! It’s time to exchange gifts. Now sit down. Don’t make me come over there.” It took a few moments, but Harry finally wrestled the phone away from Sherlock and though both pouted, they obeyed Mum and sat.   

John chuckled in exasperation and sighed.  He didn’t even try to hide his smile as he wondered how he had got so lucky that this was his life.  

 

 

_________________________________________________________________________________ 

“I’m still so stuffed, I won’t be able to eat anything for another month and don’t you even try and make me.  Your mother is worse than Monique!”  

After they’d kissed Mum, Harry and Clara goodbye, Sherlock had thrown himself into the passenger seat of the Mercedes and insisted that John drive them home.  He spent the whole trip moaning in pain while holding his flat stomach.  
  
John shook his head in mock disgust, hiding his smile as he parked in front of their flat. ”You had a much harder time saying ‘no’ to Mum than you do to Monique.  She’s a Watson and knows exactly how to deal with a Holmes.” 

John couldn’t help but laugh at the pout on Sherlock’s face.  The detective had eaten an amazing amount of breakfast that morning, which had made John’s eyebrows about disappear into his fringe in disbelief. 

All in all, it had been a very successful visit and Sherlock had managed to defeat all of Harry’s top scores on both Fruit Ninja and Angry Birds. Everyone had been thrilled with the gifts given and received and Sherlock was resplendent in his new ugly jumper with cavorting reindeer from Clara. He’d been extremely gracious in his acceptance and had put it on as soon as it had been presented to him.  

John’s arms were full of leftovers and a roast that his mother had forced on him as he staggered to their front door.  He looked back over his shoulder at Sherlock who was following him with the bags. 

“Can you get the door, luv? I’m afraid if I put all this down, I won’t be able to pick it up again.” 

Sighing affectionately, Sherlock set down the bags and squeezed past John to unlock the door.  He had the key out when he froze in place. “John, can you feel if anyone is watching us?”  
  
Alarmed, John immediately sent out his empathy and searched the area. “I don’t sense any danger, Sherlock. What’s wrong?”  
  
The sentinel knelt in front of the door and stared at the keyhole. He stood and turned to John, face grim. “Someone has picked the lock.  We’ve had a break-in while we were away. No one is inside now, so it’s safe to go in, but we need to ring Lestrade.” 

Carefully, Sherlock opened the door, picked up the bags and led the way inside.  The hall and stairway were dark though the lights should have been on.  John was glad Mrs Hudson was still away and the entrance to her flat was undisturbed. 

John took out his mobile and rang Lestrade, explaining that there had been a break-in and requesting a forensics team.  There were many possibilities as to who could have broken into their flat, but the top suspect in John’s mind was Michael Justin. 

Leaving their bags downstairs, they slowly and carefully took the seventeen steps up to their floor.  When they got to the flat, Sherlock knelt again to examine the door. 

 “Someone has forced this one, as well. It’s not locked.” He moved to push open the door but stood to one side. “John, stand aside in case there’s a trap of some sort.”  He pushed and the door swung open with a slight creak.  All was quiet, so after a few moments Sherlock entered the flat, flipped on the lights and searched while John waited in suspense on the landing. 

In a few moments, Sherlock returned to John’s side.  “I don’t see anything missing at the moment but he’s made a mess in the bedroom.  He’s destroyed all of your clothes and the bed itself, John. I’m sorry.” 

Sickened, the doctor nodded absently as he entered the flat himself and looked around. “Not your fault, luv. I’m just glad I locked up the SIG-Sauer before we left. 

“Michael Justin has to be responsible.  I never dreamed he’d do something like this. Maybe the CCTV cameras caught him entering and leaving.” An uncomfortable feeling of violation was crawling down his spine and he didn’t like it at all.  
  
”You’re right.  I’m certain it was Justin.”  Sherlock was coming down the stairs from John’s old bedroom. “Everything’s fine up there. Nothing seems disturbed.”  John was relieved. He’d kept a lot of his things from his army days stored in the second bedroom and would have hated to lose them, too. 

Unsure of what to do and feeling numb, he decided to bring up the food his mother had given him. “I think I’ll put the leftovers away while we wait for Lestrade. This could all take a while and I don’t want anything to go bad.”  At Sherlock’s pointed look he held up his gloved hands. “I promise I’ll be careful about disturbing fingerprints!”  

Taking his time, John brought up the food, entered the kitchen and set the bags on the table.  Turning on the lights, he looked around. Immediately he realised something was wrong but couldn’t figure out exactly what was out of place. 

When he did, he called out to Sherlock, voice quavering as his blood seemed to have turned to ice.   “Sherlock. He’s been in the kitchen, too.” The print of the ultrasound of the babies was missing from the fridge.  In its place was a mutilated photo of John, spattered with red paint.

Sherlock was in the room in an instant and realised exactly what had happened.  His expression turned bleak.  “I know you were unhappy about Mycroft’s surveillance, but do you mind if I text him and ask if he would replace it until Justin is caught?”  
  
John was nodding before Sherlock had finished his request. “By all means, please ask him. I won’t object to this.”  His horror and alarm grew as he realised the awful truth. 

 “Sherlock. The killer already wants to get rid of me. And now he’s aware that not only am I pregnant, I’m pregnant with  _twins_.  Knowing this, his interest is going to escalate off the scale.” 

Sherlock’s eyes were also full of fear.  “Yes, I deduced that pretty much right away. We’ll just have to make sure we’re not separated until he's caught. Do you want a bodyguard?” 

“A watch outside would be appreciated.  But no, I don’t think we need to go that far yet. As long as we’re not separated, we should be fine.”        
  
John left Sherlock to arrange the surveillance and a change of locks.  John sat on the sofa and waited for Lestrade. They would have to sleep in his old room for a few nights or until they could replace the mattress.  He wondered just how much sleep he was going to get. The feelings of invasion and violation were intense. 

The arrival of Lestrade’s crew was a distraction for a while and evidence collection took a large part of the afternoon.  The DI left the bedroom with an ashen face and even Donovan and Anderson looked at John sympathetically.  

“Mate, this bloke is a serious nutter.  He’s taken a knife to the bed and all your clothes.  Are you sure you want to stay here?  We have some safe houses we can send you to until we catch him.” Lestrade glanced over at Sherlock, who shook his head.   
  
”No, thank you but we’ll be fine.  Mycroft is sending over a team shortly to keep an eye on things and set up a security system.” 

Sighing, Lestrade reluctantly agreed.  “Okay. I’ll let you know what we find just as soon as possible. If this is your killer, you need to be careful, you two.” With that warning, Lestrade and his team finally left. Sherlock turned to John and pulled him into an embrace. 

“Try not to worry too much, John. Mycroft has promised to watch over us for the duration.”  

John hugged back and buried his face in Sherlock’s neck.  “I never thought I’d ever say this, but I’m glad for his over-protective nature.  I hope you thanked him for me.” 

“I thanked him for both of us.  He’s also arranged for removers to come and take the remains of the bed and replace the mattress.  I can take you shopping for new clothes and bed linens tomorrow if you like.” 

 “Let’s do that, then. I’m going to need something to wear to the Tribunal, at the very least.” He’d been trying not to think about that, but it was to take place in less than two days.  Briefly, John mourned his new suit, but tried to be philosophical. It was just fabric. No one had been hurt and nothing irreplaceable had been damaged. 

He decided to change the subject.  “Do you feel hungry?  Thankfully, Justin left no surprises in the fridge and I’ve put away Mum’s leftovers.  I can warm something up or make a sandwich.”  
  
Sherlock kissed his forehead and pulled back from their embrace.  “No, I couldn’t eat another thing today. I’ll make up the bed upstairs. Mycroft’s people will be here soon to set up the security.  Then you should get yourself something to eat and rest if you can. I’ve got some thinking to do and I also need to discuss a few things with Mycroft when he arrives.” 

“That’s a good idea. But first I’ll tidy up the bedroom so the removers can take out the old mattress tomorrow.”  John reluctantly made his way to their room and was shocked at the incredible mess that had been made.  All his new clothes had been shredded with a very sharp blade. The same blade had carved up the mattress and pillows as well.  The rage the killer must feel to have perpetrated such a violent act was inconceivable to the doctor. 

John cleaned up as much as he could of the mess in the bedroom, binning all his ruined clothing, mattress and pillow stuffing and the remains of the bed linens.  It was a shocking waste of money to have to replace all of them and he fumed silently at Justin for his wanton and unnecessary destruction.  
  
Mycroft arrived with his people and they got efficiently to work wiring up the flat with microphones and cameras.  

The older Holmes looked sympathetically at John and put a hand on his shoulder in commiseration. “I’m so very sorry it has come to this.  Sherlock told me what has happened.  I’ll do my best to keep you both as safe as possible until this person is apprehended.”   

John was reassured and very grateful.  “Thank you, Mycroft. I had hoped none of this would be necessary but it’s much appreciated.” 

Mycroft smiled fondly at John and turned to his younger brother.  “Sherlock, I’ve checked the CCTV recordings and two men were involved in the break-in here last night.  A large, ginger haired man, presumably Huw White, picked the lock and entered with another, smaller and younger man, likely your Mr Justin.” 

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed in anger. “That’s exactly who it was, Mycroft.  This has gone on much too long. I don’t know what the relationship is between those two men, but I think White is being used.  White’s got two sentinel senses and I believe Justin is using that against him. I almost pity him because he has no defences against an unscrupulous guide like Justin.  

“We have to find them.  I’ve got my homeless network scouring the city, but there’s been no sign of them yet.” 

“I’ll have my people look for them, too.  White stands out and is rather noticeable. Between your people and mine, I think we have a good chance of finding them.” 

John wandered away to toss out the rubbish as the two brothers continued to discuss the case.  He then stood in his kitchen and looked around.  Justin had been in this room and had stolen the ultrasound print of his children. His sense of safety and security had been taken from him, too. The thought of it made him feel angry and restless. He desperately wanted to do something but he was helpless.   

Walking over to the sink, he noticed some dirty dishes they’d left in the sink from Christmas morning. Reaching for the Fairy washing-up liquid, he filled the sink with hot water and washed the dishes.  He then began to wipe down all the kitchen surfaces, cleaned the sink, the cooker, the table top and then turned to face the fridge.  Taking a deep breath, he took down the magnets and papers that had been attached to the surface and began to scrub.  The magnets were next.  He had just finished washing the kitchen floor when Sherlock walked in. 

“Mycroft is getting ready to leave. What on earth are you doing, John?” 

John straightened up from mopping and looked over his sparkling clean kitchen. “I…I’m not sure.”  He thought for a moment and realised what he had been doing. 

“A serial killer was in our bedroom and our kitchen, Sherlock. He’s touched our things and left his mucky fingerprints everywhere. That made me feel dirty and I wanted him gone from our home, so I needed to clean.  I know that doesn’t make much sense, but that’s how I felt.” He looked up at Sherlock, begging him to comprehend his meaning.    
  
The detective nodded immediately in understanding. “You’re right.  All traces of him should be eradicated. Is there anything I can do to help?” 

John was able to relax somewhat, knowing that he wasn’t daft.  “No, I think I’ve got it now. This attack is so personal.  I needed to do something and this actually helped.”

Mycroft appeared in the kitchen beside Sherlock. “It’s a reasonable reaction to such an invasion, John.  I think I would react the same way, if things were reversed.” John shot him a grateful glance.  It was nice to know that his family understood him. 

Before Mycroft left, he spoke very seriously to them both. “I will do everything in my power to see that nothing happens to either of you. But if this man is determined to get to you, he will find a way. I don’t need to tell you that must guard yourselves at all times until he is apprehended.” 

Sherlock pulled John close.  “Agreed, Mycroft. We will be careful. Thank you for your help in keeping John safe.” 

Mycroft smiled, gathered up his people and left.  John took a deep breath.  He was still furious, scared and experiencing a strong sense of violation.  “I hate that he knows about the twins. It scares me to death.  I don’t think I’ll feel safe until that nutter is caught, luv.” 

“I know, John. Remember we’re doing everything we can. Soon Justin will be without funds, desperate and making mistakes.  His face is going up on every newspaper, internet and television news broadcast. We’ll have the warrants to search for the warehouses as soon as this weekend. And with Mycroft throwing his people into the mix, we should have him soon. 

“In the meantime, we need to stick together and not let this take over our lives. We have a lot to do in the next two days and I don’t want to spend our time worrying about this man.” 

“You’re right, Sherlock. I’ll do my best not to worry.  Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat?”  John was starving but he could tell that Sherlock was going into thinking mode and he doubted his sentinel would want anything.

“Maybe some tea, but that’s all. Thank you.” John nodded and fixed himself some sandwiches and tea for them both in his nice clean kitchen.  They spent a quiet evening together before John went up to his old room, alone. 

With Sherlock within earshot, John was finally able to relax and sleep, knowing that Justin had not been in this room and that Mycroft’s people were watching over them.  His dreams were anything but pleasant, however.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter has some graphic descriptions of wartime violence and bloodshed.
> 
> Thank you all for your continued patience. Also, many thanks for your extremely kind comments and kudos. Each one is greatly welcomed and very much appreciated.

John woke early the next morning to the faint sounds of pounding and the whine of electrical saws. Reaching out to the other side of the bed, he realised he was alone and had been all night.  Sherlock must have spent the night on the sofa, thinking about the case.  Despite his alpha being downstairs and his uneasy dreams, John had actually slept well and felt rested.    
  
He rose and stumbled down to the loo and then to the living room. Sure enough, Sherlock had fallen asleep on the sofa and was still there, curled up around a pillow and snoring lightly.   The sounds of construction were much louder downstairs and John was surprised they hadn’t disturbed Sherlock. He wondered about them until he realised that the new owners of Mrs Turner’s old building had finally begun renovations.  He hoped that the work wouldn’t take long to complete but he was confident he’d learn to tune the sounds out after a while.  He’d managed to sleep during a war, after all. 

With sunshine drenching the rooms, the flat was brighter and felt less tainted than the night before.  Having scrubbed the kitchen really helped and the feelings of violation John had been experiencing earlier were mostly gone.  He missed the ultrasound of the babies that had been on the fridge, but Sherlock had found another one and replaced it.  It wasn’t the same but it was better than nothing.

John wanted something comforting for breakfast and set about preparing a serious fry-up, using most of the leftovers his mother had sent home with them.  He heard Sherlock moving around and the shower start while he was chopping up onions and tomatoes.  By the time he set the table, his alpha was pouring coffee for them both.  John stole a kiss and hug before they started their meal. It had been a few days since they’d managed to find some time alone and he missed his alpha. 

Sherlock tucked into his breakfast but didn’t have much to say.   No new ideas about the case had come to him during the night and his mood was somewhat black as a result.  Once he had been up for a while, the bad mood thankfully began to lift as they got out of the flat for some fresh air. 

They spent the rest of the morning and entire afternoon shopping for new bed linens and clothes for John.  Despite the reason for their errands, John enjoyed spending so much time with Sherlock. 

After lunch, they stopped by Mark’s shop and spoke with Andre again.  The man had excellent ideas for some more formal maternity clothing and promised John another suit once he heard what had happened to the previous one.  

John loved the ideas for the new outfits and approved them all.  They still had to decide on what he would wear to the bonding ceremony but John wanted to spend more time thinking about it. 

Because he was having twins, he would definitely be enormous in size at six months along and a bonding robe was looking to be a more attractive alternative to a suit. With a robe he wouldn’t have to have as many fittings done at the last moment and it would be more comfortable. But he’d never worn anything like that before and was pretty sure he’d feel stupid and awkward. It was traditional for a pregnant omega to wear, but he was still uncertain.  Sherlock arched an amused eyebrow at him as he dithered, but John ignored him with the ease of long practice and put off the decision until later.    
  
Andre understood and suggested a maternity shop nearby for more casual male omega clothing and undergarments. They spent the rest of the afternoon there, choosing a variety of sensible outfits that he could ‘grow’ into.  The omega who helped them had a lot of experience and excellent advice for John, which the doctor appreciated very much. He found a number of nice trousers with waists that could be gradually expanded as well as some larger shirts, pyjamas and a new robe. 

On the way home they made a quick stop back at the clothing store they’d visited weeks ago and John was able to find another blue cashmere jumper exactly like the one he’d bought before as well as an off the rack suit he would wear to the Tribunal.  The sour faced clerk who’d embarrassed John saw them coming in and fled to the back, much to the omega’s amusement.  The clerk who had helped him the first time they’d been in the shop was trying hard to suppress a smile at his co-worker’s reaction and proceeded to help John collect  a few more pieces as he began to rebuild his wardrobe. 

John had noticed a black car with some very large men inside following them through the whole afternoon and felt very grateful and reassured by Mycroft’s protection.  He still kept his empathy on alert for any sign of Justin or White, though.  Thankfully, their afternoon was serial-killer free and they made it back home just before the sun set.  

Mycroft had seen to it that the mattress was replaced while they were away and the bedroom was tidy.  Sherlock made up the new bed while John put away his purchases.  Together they fixed a simple dinner of leftovers and ended up on the sofa watching the telly. 

It had been a long day but John didn’t feel tired at all. He and Sherlock hadn’t been able to make love for a couple of days and he was feeling the lack.  It seemed the right time to wear themselves out with an extended lovemaking session since he had no idea what was going to happen tomorrow.  The Tribunal was to begin the next morning and he just wanted to forget about it and enjoy the moment.   He could be coming home afterward free and clear or he could be imprisoned for who knew how long.  The uncertainty made him want to take advantage of the time they had now.   

They were cuddled together and John breathed in the scent of his alpha.  He enjoyed the expensive after shave Sherlock wore, but he loved the alpha’s natural scent best.   Something about it meant home and he began to relax into Sherlock’s embrace.  John knew he should be thinking about tomorrow but he didn’t want to end the day worrying.   

Once again, Sherlock read his mind. “How are you feeling about tomorrow?  You seem very calm about it.” 

“I’m trying not to think about it.  I just want to be with you tonight. I want to take you up on the offer you made the night before your mum’s party.” He pulled back from Sherlock’s embrace and gazed into the beautiful grey-green eyes. “What do you say we christen the new mattress? I want to be inside you, Sherlock.” 

The alpha’s eyes gleamed and he smiled.  “That sounds wonderful, John.  Shall we?”  He stood and took John’s hand to help him up from the sofa.  John wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s neck and kissed him deeply and slowly, then led him into the bedroom. 

For once they had time to do this leisurely.  They kissed and touched, reacquainting themselves with each other for what seemed like hours.  John loved the slow and gradual build-up of arousal and the anticipation it created. 

John slowly prepared his alpha.  The doctor had done this with other lovers only a few times but this was the first time for Sherlock. This was not something that most male alphas would ever allow or even consider permitting their male omega to do to them.  But Sherlock wasn’t most alphas. 

John had got very good at taking Sherlock into his mouth in the months since they’d bonded. He had to get in just the right angle and relax his jaw enough and he could take a considerable amount of that enormous penis deep into his throat. As he began to suck, John inserted lubricated fingers inside his alpha. They’d done this part a few times also but had never moved beyond it.   

Sherlock moaned in pleasure as John sucked, licked and kissed his penis and testicles. At the same time, the omega continued to push more lubricant deeper inside his alpha.  He slowly and painstakingly scissored his fingers and twisted to reach Sherlock’s prostate. The detective arched and cried out in pleasure as John gently massaged him.  The omega flashed his alpha a smug grin and kissed the inside of his thigh tenderly as he continued to slowly prepare him.   

Normally a trained sentinel like Sherlock could control their heightened senses relatively easily, especially with a bonded guide to help. However, during sex, sudden pain could send a sentinel’s sense of touch completely out of control and cause a deep zone. John wanted to make sure his sentinel was ready for him before they took the next step.  

Finally, Sherlock was too close and pulled John off and up for a kiss. “Enough, John. I’m ready for you. I want you to fuck me hard. Come inside me, John. Show me that I’m yours and you’re mine.”  

Sherlock kissed John deeply again and lifted himself for John to enter him.  John took a moment to admire how limber Sherlock was as he lined himself up.  The alpha’s left leg went over John’s good shoulder and the other was wrapped tightly around the doctor’s waist as John began to push slowly inside.  

It felt so hot, tight and incredible that John had to stop and breathe deeply whilst he tried to calm himself, despite the urgings from Sherlock, who was complaining loudly and trying to pull John deeper inside. 

Laughing, he kissed his alpha hard to get him distracted until they both could calm down, but then he had to start pushing again.  He could no longer stop his hips from thrusting, no matter how hard he tried. The pleasure was so amazing and intense and he picked up his pace. 

Even though this was the first time Sherlock had ever done this with anyone, not surprisingly he was bloody brilliant at it.  The alpha’s head was thrown back and both arms were braced against the headboard as he met every thrust.  Just the sight of him caused John to lose all control and he began to fuck his alpha hard.  Balanced on his hands and knees, he had good leverage and gave Sherlock everything he had.   
  
Sherlock’s eyes and mouth flew open as John changed the angle just enough to hit the prostate and the doctor felt a thrill of rising arousal up his spine at the expression of bliss he put on Sherlock’s face. The inarticulate noises that were coming out of the sentinel’s mouth heightened John’s arousal even more but somehow he held off his climax and continued to watch his alpha writhe and arch under him. 

John felt strong and powerful as Sherlock shook apart beneath him and spattered both their chests with his seed.  The illumination in the room began to take on a bluish hue but he barely noticed as he continued to push into his sentinel.  He was close but suddenly something inside his chest seemed to unlock and open. Something he’d been subliminally aware of since their initial bonding but didn’t realise what it was.  

Now it was awakened and it reached out from John to Sherlock, from Guide to Sentinel. He knew Sherlock felt it too because his eyes flew open in surprise and locked with John’s.  Just as he had when they’d first bonded, John began to feel what Sherlock felt as the doctor moved in him.  He blinked in astonishment as once more they were one and their love and trust wrapped almost tangibly around them.  

As John emptied himself inside his sentinel for the first time, the doctor felt that unknown something reach completely into Sherlock and whatever it was seemed to lock them together tighter and stronger than ever before.  He could feel Sherlock experiencing it, as well.  

Not understanding what had happened, they slowly became two separate people once more. John collapsed on top of Sherlock, sticky and sweaty, while the alpha gently and tenderly wrapped his arms around John and twined his fingers into his omega’s hair.  Both of them were breathing hard but they soon calmed and stared in wonder into each others’ eyes.   The illumination in the room had become completely blue and as they regretfully pulled apart, they realised they were no longer in their room, but in the blue forest. 

They sat up, naked, still holding each other and looked around in confusion.  They were in a clearing they’d not seen before and sitting across from them were their spirit guides. 

Sherlock’s raptor spoke first. ‘ _Welcome, little brothers. You have finally completed your bond and we congratulate you both.’_  

Tongue lolling, John’s wolf spoke next.   _‘A sentinel and guide must trust fully and completely in each other.  By giving yourselves to each other in the way you have just done, sentinel to guide and guide to sentinel, you have completed the circle of your bond. Not even death can separate you now.’_  

Together they both said,  _‘What you have done is a rare thing in these last centuries.  You are now truly one and we rejoice for you.’_  

John was astounded.  Deep down, somewhere in his unconscious, he had known something was missing from their bond but he hadn’t known what it was and therefore hadn’t really worried about it.  He had thought that, with time, they’d figure it out, but never dreamed their bond would solidify completely only when Sherlock gave himself physically to John.  

So it was rare that a sentinel/guide bond was completed?  But thinking about it, it was not surprising considering their culture and the attitude most male alphas had about being the receptive partner in sex.  It just wasn’t something that alphas were raised to expect to have to ever do.  A female omega guide could not penetrate her male alpha partner without artificial aids and the same was true of a female sentinel and male guide. John wondered how or if they ever managed a full bond.  Certainly they must somehow. Something to ask about later, he supposed. 

John sat up straighter, though he maintained his grip on Sherlock. “Um. Thanks for that. So, what now?  Is that why you’ve called us here? To congratulate us?”  The doctor knew that a visit to the spirit world was not made lightly.

The bird snapped his beak impatiently and opened his wings wide.   _‘We rejoice in the completion of your bond, yes. But you must know that you both will be facing many trials in the days to come and you will have to make difficult choices soon. If you choose wrongly, it will result in the ending of your lives and the lives of your unborn children. This newly completed bond can save you if you learn to listen to what it tells you.’_  

The wolf raised her head and stared directly into their eyes.   _‘You will find that many of your decisions will have to be made alone. There will be times that you will not be able to consult with the other. But always keep your bond and each other in mind as you make these choices and decisions.  In the days to come, your bond and the love you have for each other may be the only things you can trust.’_

 _‘Go back now, little brothers.  We are watching over you as best we can.  Guide, call for your Sentinel through the bond if you are in need and trust him with your life. Sentinel, trust in your Guide and allow him to help you. Do not hold him back from danger. He is strong and more capable than you can ever imagine.’_ The raptor folded his wings and lowered his head _. ‘Farewell, little brothers. We will see you again.’_  

The two clutched at each other as the ground seemed to shift and everything went black.  John opened his eyes to find himself back in bed, entwined with Sherlock, who was also just opening his eyes. 

Sitting up, they both stared at each other in wonder. John sighed.  “Well, that was quite…different. I’m not sure what to make of all that.”  

The detective looked shaken. “I’m not certain what the significance of that was except that they seem to have insights into our futures. Obviously there is danger ahead for us both.”  
  
He turned in the bed and, sticky though they were, gathered John into his arms.  The doctor embraced him back with all his strength. “I think I understand at least one thing.  I’ll do my best to stop being so over protective, John.  I know you hate it and I’ll try to do better.”  
  
”I know, luv. It’s your nature as an alpha and sentinel to be overprotective of your omega and guide, but it seems to be my nature as John Watson to jump right into danger. You're even more reckless, if you want to be truthful.   I worry about you, too but I trust that you can take care of yourself.  All I ask is that you do the same but I won’t object if you feel you need to step in or help me. Okay?” 

Sherlock nodded. “Okay.  We stick together and help each other as needed.”  

Smiling, John got up from the bed. “Agreed.  Now I need a shower and I’m asking my sentinel for help.” 

Sniggering, Sherlock sat up and took John’s hand.  “I’ll help if you promise to help me.” 

“Always, luv.”   

______________________________________________________________

  
The day of the Tribunal had dawned clear and cold.  Stomach constricted with dread and anxiety, John checked his appearance once more in the mirror.  Wearing a new, off the rack black suit, soft white cotton shirt and black and red striped tie, he looked a bit rumpled and stressed, which was to be expected for someone going on trial.  

He was also wearing the belt that had special pockets for secreting keys, money and helpful tools.  Absently, he noticed he’d had to let out the belt a couple of notches, despite the fact that his abdomen still was fairly flat.  

He’d started working out regularly with Marty after his shoulder had healed from the scalpel cuts, though they’d stayed away from the rough stuff.  Marty had instead supervised an altered training routine that emphasised cardio and muscle strength, focusing, as always, on building strength in his left shoulder.   

The former Royal Marine had almost laughed himself sick once he’d scented that John was really an omega but then had become serious and protective when John told him he was expecting. 

Marty had gone so far as to research safe pre-natal exercises for him and had actually gone through each one with him.  John had been incredibly touched at all the trouble the man had taken for him and so stuck to the exercise plan religiously. It was varied enough to be interesting and he and Marty still sparred together, though on a much less rigorous level.  He noticed his energy levels were slowly returning as a result. 

John sat on the bed and checked the shoes he planned to wear. He wished he could take the boots he’d worn during the Hunt because they had secret pockets where he kept extra money, documents and other tools that could be useful, just like the belt. But they wouldn’t be appropriate for this venue. Instead, he carefully placed extra money and a few lock picking tools in his socks. It never hurt to be prepared for any eventuality.

His stomach tightened again at the thought of being separated from Sherlock for even a few hours, though he knew he’d be safe in the Tower.  John was certain he’d be found guilty by the members of the Tribunal but he had no idea what the procedures would be after the fact. Would Hayes sentence him immediately and have him taken into custody? Or would there be some delay between the verdict and sentencing as there often was in civil or criminal court?   

If he was taken into custody immediately, the chances were good they’d at least search him.  He was hoping they’d overlook the socks and belt as they had before but even if they didn’t, he had ways to keep important things with him.  He’d been trained by the best and would find a way. 

Sherlock came into the room just as he finished tying the laces on his shoes.  “I know you didn’t sleep much last night.  And don’t tell me you’re fine. Is there anything I can do?”  

John smiled up at his alpha and he held out his arms. Sherlock moved into them and they embraced tightly. “Thanks, luv. There’s nothing you can do but be there for me.  You didn’t get much sleep either.”  

The dramatic completion of their bond and the unexpected visit with their spirit animals had raised many questions.  He still didn’t completely understand what they’d meant to convey to him and their cryptic words had kept running through his mind all night. Sherlock had cuddled close to him as he had tossed and turned, trying hard to provide comfort. John had finally dropped off in the early morning, but they both only got a few hours before they had to get up again. 

John sighed into Sherlock’s neck. “The timing for this Tribunal is bloody rotten. Christmas was just a few days ago and then the break-in.  I am so ready for this case to be done and Justin caught.” 

Sherlock nodded and John could feel his smile. “It’s hard to believe I’m the one counselling patience here, but we’ll get him.  It’s just a matter of time.  But we have to get through this Tribunal first and then we’ll start searching the warehouses. Lestrade will have the warrants this afternoon and we’ll be with him searching as early as this afternoon, if all goes well.” 

As they drove to the Tower, John recalled his most recent phone conversation with Forrester.  John owed her so much and just knowing she had had his back if everything had gone pear shaped with the Tower had saved his sanity.  She had been a part of this thing since the beginning and he’d neglected her for too long.  Thankfully, she wasn’t the kind of person to take offence and she’d been keeping an eye on him through Marty anyway. 

She answered immediately. “Doc! How are you? It’s been a while. I’m guessing your pretty alpha has been keeping you rather busy. I understand you stayed a month in France.” Her tone was teasing.  
  
John heaved a dramatic sigh. “Yes, we decided to do the romantic thing and head for France. It’s all the rage this season.”

”Finally! I never thought I’d live to see the day that Doc Watson would become a starry-eyed fool and bond with a gorgeous alpha sentinel.” She was openly laughing now.

He laughed with her. ”Okay. That’s enough teasing.  But seriously, Starr. Thank you for your help and advice in October.  I don’t think I would have made it through it all without knowing you were there for me. We hope to have a bonding ceremony in April and I’d like you and Ben to come if you can.  I would really love to see you both.”

”Let me know the exact time and place and we’ll do our best to come. Will you be very pregnant then?”  
  
John couldn’t help rolling his eyes. Exasperated, he spoke fondly.  ”You always ask the most impertinent questions! Yes, I’ll be as big as a whale. I’m having twins. Are you happy now?” John noticed Sherlock glance his way, raise an eyebrow and smirk. Apparently the sentinel could easily hear Starr laughing at John from across the room.  
  
They had talked for a while longer, catching up on a few things and she rang off with repeating her promise to come to the bonding ceremony.  

John smiled at the memory. He had such amazing friends and felt very fortunate.  It struck him at that moment that there was a chance that he might not be free to attend his own bonding ceremony if things didn’t go well at the Tribunal. 

In the back of his mind, John had always hoped that Hayes would be lenient with him and hadn’t truly thought in great depth about what could happen to him or how she might punish him.  After all, there were the families of the injured Protectors that she had to take into account.  They surely had more influence in the sentinel community than he did and they certainly wanted to see justice done. And he would be very surprised if the family of the unbonded sentinel he’d damaged permanently wasn’t out for his blood.   

John was woefully ignorant about how much weight the Holmes family carried in sentinel circles.  Mycroft had helped Fitzhugh pursue John until he’d learnt that the doctor was an omega guide so there was some connection there, but it was to the previous administration.  Sherlock had no association with the Tower whatsoever and John really knew nothing about his new father-in-law.  

John wondered how politics worked in the Towers. He knew Hayes had a lot of power but she was new to her leadership role.  It was likely that if she didn’t want to have to face stiff opposition and backlash to her policies, she had to be extremely careful about what she did and what traditions she tried to change until she was more secure in her position.  Once her reforms began to be implemented and actually started to work, she probably had to walk carefully and no doubt had rivals just waiting to see her fail and take advantage.

Knowing how ruthless she could be, John had no illusions that she wouldn’t be prepared to sacrifice him in a heartbeat to appease affluent sentinel families with connections in high places. The thought was sobering in the extreme. 

He caught Sherlock glancing at him with a frown.  The sentinel must have caught his sudden shift of mood. 

“John, we’ll face whatever comes together. You know I’ll always be with you and will never abandon you.”  
  
“I do know that, Sherlock. I think it’s embedded in my DNA at this point.” He smiled at his alpha.  “I’m just worrying too much.” 

As they arrived at the Tower’s car park, they were surprised to see that it was nearly filled to capacity. Surely they weren’t here for the Tribunal.  There would be people from other Towers attending, though. The judges and their guides would be there, as well as the guides chosen to monitor his testimony.  Maybe there were other things going on in the Tower that day. 

As they stepped off the lift and into the reception area, John almost didn’t recognise the place. Both he and Sherlock gaped like tourists as they stared.  The stone walls had been painted cheerful colours and vibrant displays and photo montages had been placed all around, illustrating the various careers available to new sentinels and guides.  Most of the displays seemed to be aimed at prospective guides.

As they watched, a large group of young people with their parents were being conducted around the area while their group leader pointed out various things on the informational displays and answered questions being asked by individuals in the crowd.

Delighted, John realised that Hayes’ plan was actually beginning to work.  Prospective guides were coming to the Tower voluntarily with the promise of education and fulfilling careers.  The fact that they were touring with their parents in tow was an incredibly positive sign for the future.  
  
Sherlock watched in awe.  “Moira Hayes has done something no one has managed to do in centuries, John.  There may be a time in the near future when every sentinel will be able to have a guide if he or she wants one.  I never thought I’d live to see the day.” The detective pulled John over to him and held him tight to his side as they made their way through the crowd to the reception desk.

Some of the young people and their parents glanced curiously at them as they passed by, clearly realising they were a sentinel and guide pair but that they were alpha and omega as well.  John could hear whispers discussing them, but then they were out of earshot.  He looked up at Sherlock, who had cocked his head a bit to one side in his listening posture.  
  
”What are they saying?  Anything interesting?” John was curious.

“Some of them have never seen a sentinel/guide pair before and were just speculating about us.  The ones we passed by closely realised we are also alpha and omega and are asking questions about us to their tour guide.” 

“Hmm. I hope she’s saying nice things about us.”  John snuck a look over his shoulder as they reached the reception desk. The tour guide was speaking earnestly to the group.  

The sentinel smirked. “They know you’re the omega guide from the Hunt and are very excited. She’s explaining about omega guides and alpha sentinels to them.  That guide is making us into a lesson for the new guides.”  The receptionist turned to them at that point and recognised them.  
  
They were instructed to proceed to room 514. They thanked him and made their way to the lifts.  John was holding tight to Sherlock as his nerves ratcheted up and the doctor could feel his sentinel trying his best to project calm and comfort to him.  It was a reversal of their normal roles and John did his best to extend his gratitude for Sherlock’s thoughtfulness.    

Before the lift doors opened, John closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.  It was a technique he’d used successfully in the past but it was doing nothing for him now.    
  
Sherlock led him by hand through the hallway down to room 514.  Double doors opened into a large waiting area.  To his surprise, the first people he saw were Mycroft and Siger Holmes.

He opened his mouth but nothing came out for a moment. Instead he crossed the room to shake hands with the men who came to support him.  
  
Mycroft gave him a soft smile. “Anthea wanted to come but she’s not feeling well."  
  
John blew out a breath and returned the smile. “That’s fine, really.  I’m just overwhelmed to see you here. Thank you for coming. It really means a lot to me.”  John was still having trouble believing that Mycroft and Mr Holmes were actually there. 

Siger looked at John sympathetically.  “You’re family, John. Nothing would have kept us away. We can’t go into the room with you but we’ll be out here waiting for you.” John’s smile was a bit shaky but heartfelt as he thanked them again.   

The doctor looked around the room. Two helmeted Protectors guarded a set of double doors leading into the room where he’d be giving his testimony.  There were numerous chairs and sofas lining the walls and a small desk to one side where there was a table set aside for coats.

Large urns with tea and coffee, as well as bottled water were placed at one end of the room near a very young sentinel who was sitting behind the desk. She rose to take their coats and scarves and offered them refreshment, which they refused.    
  
Sherlock directed John to sit on a long sofa on the other side of the room away from the refreshment area.  The detective sat down beside him and slung his arm around the omega’s shoulders. Mycroft and Siger were on John’s other side, effectively flanking the doctor.  “Are we the first ones here?”  
  
Siger nodded. “We’re the only ones in the rooms, yet. The judges and guides arrived in the Tower yesterday and should be here shortly with the others.”  
  
”What others?” John was confused. “I thought it would be the judges, guides and maybe some support staff.”  
  
Siger shook his aristocratic grey head. “Oh, no.  Anyone who is an injured party or a representative family member is allowed in the room to observe your testimony.”   
  
John sat back and muttered wryly, “Well, I hope they have a bloody big room, then.”  He could remember taking down at least fourteen Protectors, not including the unbonded alpha sentinel.  

Siger suppressed a smile and continued. “They can bring their own guides to judge the veracity of your testimony and they each have one opportunity to challenge your testimony if they feel it contradicts their own version of events.  You will have to submit to their guide’s cross-examination if they feel you’re being dishonest, though that’s not something that I’ve heard of happening often.” 

“Christ. This could go on forever if they all decide to challenge me.” John ran a hand through his hair in distress.

”It’s tradition, unfortunately. Just do your best, John. It will be fine.”  The doctor wanted to believe his father-in-law and tried to settle himself. Adrenalin was already making its way into his system and he felt ill. 

The door from the hallway opened then and a crowd of assorted sentinels and guides entered the room. They eyed John’s group as they gave their coats to the attendant and then sat on the sofa and chairs on the opposite side of the room from them.  None of them looked familiar to him but that wouldn’t necessarily be surprising.  He never got a good look at any of the Protectors who had confronted him.  Events had either happened too quickly or it had been too dark to see well. 

They all knew who John was, though, and he didn’t need his empathy to tell that if looks could kill, he would be dead meat. He could tell that some recognised the Holmes family members and it made them uneasy.  If Sherlock’s claim that Mycroft ran the British Government was even a bit true, John wondered just what Siger did within the government and just how powerful these two men really were.  

Sherlock, Mycroft and Siger were sitting in a way that was very clear to everyone in the room that they were sentinels protecting and shielding their family member’s omega and guide. After all, John literally carried the future of their family. On a deep instinctive level, their behaviour settled him more than any other comfort they could have offered and he actually began to relax somewhat.    

Nervously checking his watch, he realised it was close to the time for the Tribunal to begin. Sherlock had his left arm around John’s shoulders and reached over with his right to take John’s hand in his, squeezing lightly and smiling. “We’ll be here, John. It will be all right.”

Trying not to worry too much, he attempted to smile back. “Thanks, luv.” 

Before he could say any more the door from the hall opened and two more people entered.  One was a thin, unhappy looking woman with dyed blonde hair and the other was Sebastian Wilkes.  John instinctively sat straighter, narrowed his eyes and lifted his chin in defiance.  How was Wilkes involved in this? Was one of the Protectors a relative? If John had injured one of his family members, it would certainly explain his cryptic comment the night of the party.  Like John, the Holmes men also stiffened in their seats when they saw Wilkes but said nothing.   
  
Wilkes spotted them and gave them an insincere smile that showed his crooked teeth as he joined the others on the opposite side of the room.  The woman who accompanied him looked down her nose at them before turning her back to John in a definite snub.  She must be another family member, likely a guide. 

They didn’t have time to discuss the situation before the doors were pulled open by the Protectors and Second Guide Prime Tom Elliot stepped into the room.  John caught a glimpse of tables, chairs and a large semi-circular space before the Protectors closed the doors and stood at attention in front of them again. 

Elliot looked briefly around and caught John’s eye.  He nodded slightly then turned his attention to the group of people on the other side of the room. 

Raising his voice slightly, the guide called out to them.  “You may come into the room now.  Please follow me.” 

John watched as they all followed Elliot out of the room.  The only one who looked at John was Wilkes and he gave the doctor a dismissive sneer. Sighing, he settled back further into Sherlock’s possessive embrace, laid his head against his alpha’s shoulder and closed his eyes. John’s stomach was churning again.  

Sherlock looked over at his father and brother.  “Do either of you know who is to be involved with the Tribunal?   We’ve been so busy with the case and were out of town for the holidays so I’ve not thought to ask.”  John hadn’t realised they could have asked, but he didn’t know anyone he felt comfortable asking except Elliot, anyway.  

Both Holmes men nodded and John listened carefully as Siger spoke.  “I know all of them.  The Tribunal Judges are to be Harold Messenger from Birmingham, Daniel Hamm from Leeds and Karen Baker from Manchester. All are alpha sentinels with considerable seniority in their Towers.  The guides who will be overseeing John’s testimony are Ailbert Mitchell from Edinburgh and Tom Elliot from London, whom you already know.” 

“Yes, we’ve both met Elliot. He’s a good bloke.  And I’ve heard about Ailbert Mitchell from Elliot.  Apparently he’s got a high empathy rating.”  John wondered if they still intended to test him after all this mess was over. 

“That’s true,” Mycroft agreed. “I understand he’s rated at nearly a 20 on the empathy scale and he’s also a good man.  I’ve known his sentinel since University.” 

One of the doors was opened by a Protector and Elliot looked out.  It was time. “Guide Watson? Will you please come inside?” 

The doctor stood shakily and took a deep breath.  Sherlock, Mycroft and Siger rose with him.  The sentinel took his guide into his arms and they held each other tightly for a few moments.  Reluctantly releasing Sherlock, John nodded curtly to his family. He put his shoulders back and held his head high as Elliot led him into the room.  He was acutely aware of the stares of the Protector’s relatives and felt their antagonism toward him. 

The courtroom was semicircular in shape since the outer walls were part of the original stone construction of the Tower. Small windows set high in the original stone walls were heavily curtained and let in a moderate amount of light.  Modern lighting fixtures provided plenty of illumination. The wall with the double doors was flat and obviously of modern construction but blended well with the original stone.  An additional set of double doors could be seen near the windows.  John guessed the judges were in a room behind them. 

The place was carefully designed to be calming and soothing to sentinel and guide senses alike.  White noise machines were placed strategically around the room and had been turned on.   A small desk and chair had been set up to the right of the judge’s bench.  Just as John noticed it, a harried looking person squeezed in the doors behind him and sat down quickly, setting up some kind of recording machine. 

The judges’ bench was placed near the wall in front of the windows. A table with four chairs had been positioned in the centre of the room facing the bench. Over thirty chairs had been placed at the far side of the room where the family representatives were now seating themselves. 

A man who John guessed must be Ailbert Mitchell was already standing at the centre table facing them as Elliot led the doctor to the table.  Once seated at the table, John realised that the family members would be to his left and in his peripheral vision the entire time.  He hoped they wouldn’t distract him too much.  

Elliot had begun to introduce him to Mitchell when two armed Protectors walked into the room through the second set of doors, followed by Hayes, Douglas and six people he didn’t recognise. John guessed they were the judges and their guides.  The Protectors stood to either side of the now closed doors as the others proceeded into the room. 

The three judges began to take their seats facing John’s table while Hayes and Douglas moved over to sit in chairs off to the right of the judges.  Placards had been put in front of each seat at the judges’ bench, identifying them.  Daniel Hamm was the Chief Judge of the Tribunal and Messenger and Baker were the Associate Judges. Their guides were not identified and would sit back behind them, mostly out of John’s sight.  

The doctor stood before the three judges and looked them over. Hamm was probably in his late 60’s, tall, rather thin and very pale.  The sour look he had on his face told John that the man was not particularly happy to be there.  He was tempted to extend his empathy to find out what was bothering the man, but pulled back at the last second.  

He turned his attention to the other two judges.  Both were in their late 40’s or early 50’s, rather unremarkable looking and their expressions were stern but neutral. John had the feeling they could both be fair and impartial but he wasn’t so sure about Hamm. Not that it particularly mattered. He was guilty, after all.  All of this courtroom drama was merely a formality and he simply had to jump through the hoops before Hayes could sentence him to whatever punishment she had chosen for him.  

John glanced at Hayes and Douglas out of the corner of his eye. They were sitting to his left near the family members and he thought he saw Hayes give him a slight nod, face impassive.  That lightened his spirits somewhat, though he knew he couldn’t count on her to be lenient or really help him in any way.

Elliot and Mitchell moved to stand to either side of John and then took their seats.  Only John remained standing at military attention, arms at his sides with his back straight and head high.  Once everyone was settled, Judge Hamm cleared his throat and looked suspiciously out over the room. 

“It should be noted that these proceedings are being recorded.  I want it clear right now that there will be no talking or outbursts from anyone in this room at any time for any reason.  You will be removed by the Protectors immediately and not allowed to return.  Guide Watson will be allowed to speak quietly to the Guides shielding him, however. 

“Once the judges decide on a verdict, it is final and there is no appeal.  If a guilty verdict is determined, Sentinel Alpha Prime Hayes will pronounce sentence. As your judges, we cannot determine your punishment but we can make recommendations to the Sentinel Alpha Prime that she is free to consider or ignore if she so decides.  Once the sentence has been delivered, it will be carried out immediately.”  Well, that answered that question, at least. John tried to be philosophical.  

After staring narrowly at everyone in the room, Judge Hamm began reading from a paper in front of him.  “Omega Guide John Hamish Watson, you are here to answer to charges that have been placed against you by the Sentinel Alpha Prime Moira Hayes of the London Sentinel Tower.  Do you understand?’  The judge eyed John sternly with watery blue eyes over his glasses. “You may address me as Alpha Sentinel Hamm or Your Honour.” 

”Yes, your Honour. I understand.” John’s voice was steady. 

“Good. Associate Judge Baker will read the charges. If you have any questions, you may ask them when she’s finished.”  Hamm sat back and Associate Judge Baker opened a thick folder.  The list was lengthy and took a while to read. Graham Givens had gone over the charges with John earlier and thankfully there were no surprises as the judge read aloud.  Charges of disobeying a Warrant of Custody, simple assault, evading lawful detention and GBH were just a few that he remembered. 

When Baker finished reading, Hamm cocked an eyebrow at John.  “Any questions, Guide Watson?”  
  
“No, your Honour.” 

“Then you may be seated.”  John sat and waited. There was bottled water on the table and he took one to moisten his dry mouth.  The judges shuffled papers back and forth and then Associate Judge Messenger spoke. “Guide Watson, you will give testimony as to the events that occurred between the dates of Friday, October 5 and Monday, October 8, 2012 as they relate to these charges.  You must lower your shields completely or we will administer a drug that will lower them artificially.  What do you choose to do?”  
  
John glanced quickly at Elliot and then back to the judge. “I’ll willingly lower my shields, your Honour.  I don’t wish to take any drugs.”  It had been years since he’d lowered his shields for anyone and he hoped he’d be able to do it properly and keep them down while he recounted his testimony. 

Messenger acknowledged his response.  “For the record, Guide Watson, are you now bonded?” 

“Yes, your Honour.  I’ve been bonded to alpha sentinel Sherlock Holmes since the middle of October.” 

Messenger nodded. “What is your current occupation?” 

“I’m unemployed at the moment but am trained as a medical doctor specialising in trauma surgery.” 

“And do you have any Tower guide training?” 

“No, your Honour.” 

“Thank you, Guide Watson.” Messenger turned to the other judges and began to speak quietly as they passed some papers back and forth.  Elliot took the opportunity to introduce John properly to Ailbert Mitchell.

Mitchell was near John in age and his expression was serious as he shook John’s hand. His Scottish accent was slight. “It’s a great pleasure to finally meet you. I hope we’ll have the chance to speak later. I shall be here to shield you, should you need it, Guide Watson.”   

That last sentence sounded somewhat like a ritual and once more John wished he knew more about guide culture.  He realised it was definitely some kind of guide ritual when Elliot repeated the exact same words.  Touched by their clear concern for him, he quietly thanked them both.   

Elliot spoke for both guides. “What we will be doing is monitoring your empathic state as you tell the judges what happened.  The guides seated with the family members will also be using their empathy to watch over your testimony. They have the right to stop the proceedings and re-examine your statement if there are any doubts about your honesty. 

“Each family member is allowed to do this only once, however. From what I can tell, most family members brought guides and both Ailbert and I are very experienced, so hopefully all should go smoothly. 

“Now lower your shields and relax.  As soon as the judges allow it, you can begin. Just be truthful and tell them all that you remember.” 

John nodded and took a sip from his water bottle.  Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and carefully lowered his shields completely.  It felt almost as if he had stripped off all his clothes in public and he braced himself for the onslaught of emotions from the people around him. Surely their anger and dislike of him would assault him, but he was pleasantly surprised to discover he was being sheltered by the two guides beside him.  

They were protecting him from distracting or potentially painful emotions but still permitting the guides in the audience to read him.  He took a moment to extend his gratitude to them and then looked to the judges. 

Judge Hamm watched him narrowly. “Are you ready to start your testimony, Guide Watson? Please remember that this will be recorded.” 

“Yes, your Honour.”  He took a moment to consider his words and began.  “As I recall, it was Friday morning and I was arriving to work at St Bart’s A&E when two strange sentinels approached me in the hall outside my office….”

John had always been a story teller from the time he was a child.  He and Harry had spent many hours weaving intricate stories and imaginative tales about all the different places they’d lived and the people they’d met over the years.  

He had continued to develop his storytelling by writing in his blog and describing his and Sherlock’s exploits.  The comments he got from readers regularly complimented his ability to keep them spell bound and he managed to do the same with everyone in the room.    Even the dour Judge Hamm was listening with great interest to John’s story as he testified as to what had happened over those few days in October.   

John told his tale without hesitation until his narrative reached that fateful Saturday night. Heart in his throat at the memory, he found it very difficult to try to describe his feelings of betrayal when Mycroft had texted him disguised as Sherlock and arranged for the Tower to ambush him. He did his best to relate how desperate he’d been when he’d fled on foot from the Protectors and then been cornered in that wet, cold, urine-soaked alley and the subsequent fight in the rain and darkness.  

When John reached the point in the narrative where he had been drugged and nearly defeated by the unbonded sentinel, he paused briefly.   After exchanging blows, John had attempted to reason with the man but had got only verbal abuse of a sexual nature that had led to the man attempting a forced bonding. 

To save the feelings of any family members in the room, John hurriedly decided that he wouldn’t recount that aspect of the fight. The crudity of the language and the attempted sexual assault were not things he thought they’d want to know.  Skipping over that part, John moved on to where he had to make the difficult decision to permanently disable the unbonded sentinel in order to save his own life.  

Before he could continue, however, the woman who had arrived with Wilkes sprang to her feet and pointed at him.  “He’s hiding something, Judge Hamm.  He’s not telling the whole truth here.”  Elliot and Mitchell looked up at her in startlement, clearly not agreeing with her.  
  
Elliot rose and addressed the judges.  “I didn’t detect any falsehood, your Honour.  There was some hesitation and I suspect Guide Watson glossed over a detail or two, but I don’t sense that he’s lying.”  Mitchell was nodding in agreement and the other guides in the audience were looking surprised.  
  
The woman scoffed at Elliot. “Well, I sensed deception clearly and everyone knows I’m more sensitive than the rest of you about this kind of thing.  I demand, for the family’s sake, that I go over this with him and force him to recall using memory retrieval.” 

Confused, John turned to Elliot and whispered, “What’s memory retrieval?” 

Elliot looked uncomfortable. “It’s a rare guide technique that few have really mastered.  Our conscious mind can often misremember or miss details, which is why eyewitness accounts can be wildly inaccurate sometimes.  However, our unconscious remembers everything. 

“With this technique, a skilled guide can ‘retrieve’ the unconscious memory and make the subject relive a particular memory. She can actually watch it unfold as if were happening in real time.  She can then determine how accurate the recollection compares with the verbal testimony.”  
  
“How do we know she won’t lie about what she sees?” 

The woman overheard him and huffed, insulted. “You won’t be shielded for this and everyone in the room with any sensitivity will be able to see it, too, if they choose.  That way everyone will know how you lied to us.” 

Even though he knew he’d not lied, the thought of being unshielded in such a hostile environment was daunting and John wasn’t sure he wanted any part of this. 

Elliot continued as if the woman hadn’t spoken.  “However, there is a drawback in that if the guide isn’t careful or can’t control the memory’s re-enactment, it can cause a cascade of similar or associated memories in the subject and once they start, it’s almost impossible to stop them.  

“It’s not usually physically damaging but it can be painfully traumatic to the individual being interrogated in this way, depending on what memories are being unearthed. And there is a very, very remote chance that the subject can get caught in a memory loop that never ends, resulting in coma and eventual death. We don’t use this procedure often because of that very reason.  Susanne is our only Tower guide who currently has any familiarity or experience in using this technique.” 

John was listening carefully to Elliot as he described the procedure but out of the corner of his eye he saw Wilkes stand up.

“May I speak, your Honour?” John’s eyes opened wide in surprise and he glanced toward the chief Judge in disbelief. 

Judge Hamm stared at Wilkes, hesitated for a moment and then paled, appearing to be very uncomfortable.  His associate judges looked at each other in surprise and then back at Hamm expectantly. Like John, it seemed they were waiting for the Protectors to haul Wilkes out of the room, but it never happened.  Hamm ignored the stunned looks of his two co-judges and gestured for Wilkes to continue.  
  
The man gave him an obsequious smile and bowed slightly.  “Thank you, your Honour.  As the representative of the Wilkes family, I demand that this technique be used to obtain the truth about this event.  As many of you already know, my cousin Samuel Wilkes was permanently disabled by this…person. He will never attain his potential as an alpha sentinel and remains a cripple.”  He sat down and adjusted his suit jacket, looking very self-righteous.  There was a rustle amongst the other family members and all the sentinels stared hard at John, clearly agreeing with Wilkes, though many of the guides looked uncertain and confused.  

The chief judge looked away from Wilkes and spoke directly to John. “Guide Watson, the family of unbonded alpha sentinel Samuel Wilkes wish this technique used. They demand to know the whole truth and it will be done. Susanne Arnaud -Wilkes will lead you through this mind technique and examine your memories.” 

John now understood. So this was what Sebastian was referring to when he accused John of enjoying hurting people and would get what he deserved.  Apparently, the unbonded sentinel was a member of that wanker’s family.  It also appeared that the Wilkes family had something on Judge Hamm and were blackmailing him.  

Things did not look good for John. He had been set up and now it seemed that Wilkes wanted to have a guide from his family invade John’s brain in what could be a very painful manner.  Maybe it was their way to assure that he was punished and possibly in a very permanent way. He wished Sherlock could have come into the room with him.  John could do anything if Sherlock was there to watch his back.  Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen. 

Elliot stood.  “Judge Hamm, for the record and as a neutral party here, I object to this.  There is no need for this to be used on Guide Watson. There is unacceptable risk involved here.” 

Bright spots of colour bloomed on the Judge’s thin cheeks and he spoke angrily. “I make the decisions here, Elliot.  See that you remember that in future or I will have you removed.” Elliot sighed and sat down. 

Mitchell decided to add his opinion and stood.  “Daniel, do not allow this.  I’ve known you a long time and this is not like you.  This procedure is not necessary and is not safe.”   
  
Judge Hamm looked uncertain for a few moments but glanced quickly over to Wilkes and his expression hardened.  “This will be done. Sit down, Ailbert and shut up.”  Mitchell angrily opened his mouth to say something further, but a subtle head shake from Elliot stopped him.  

His distress clearly visible, Mitchell turned instead to Hayes.  “Moira, can’t you do anything?  This is wrong.”  Judge Hamm’s gaze snapped over to Hayes and he paled.  
  
The Alpha Sentinel Prime of London stirred in her chair and looked slowly around the courtroom.  “I think we should trust that Guide Watson is clever and can handle this, Ailbert.”  She was staring hard at John as she spoke, clearly trying to communicate something to the omega.  It only served to confuse John more, however. 

The judge turned his attention to John.  “Guide Watson, you will undergo this examination immediately and we will then resume your interrupted testimony.” 

John didn’t know what to think and stood.   “You mean I don’t have a choice in this, your Honour?  I was not lying.  Both guides who are here in official capacity said that I was telling the truth! I don’t see what doing this will accomplish except cause pain to me and possibly to the family.” 

Chief Judge Hamm’s scrawny features tightened in fury and his pale cheeks flushed again. “You will do as I say. Clearly you are hiding something and you will submit to this to determine why you are lying to this Tribunal, young man. If you resist, I will have you tranquillised by a Protector and once you awaken, I’ll have your shields lowered with drugs and we will do this anyway. Am I making myself clear?” 

The doctor looked around him and saw he had no support aside from the guides. Should he give in or fight? But what choice did he have? Apparently none.  

Staring hard at the judge, John raised his chin high and nodded once. “Clear as crystal, sir.”  He returned to his seat and turned to watch Arnaud-Wilkes approach, smiling smugly.  She shooed Elliot out of the chair to John’s left and sat beside him instead. 

“This should only take a few minutes and I’ll need to touch you.  Give me your wrist.”  Reluctantly, John moved his left arm closer to her and she grabbed it with bony fingers. 

She then snapped at the two guides.  “Elliot, Mitchell.  Stop shielding him now. You’re interfering.”  The instant they withdrew their shields, John gasped as he was buffeted by numerous emotions that were very hateful and disorienting.  It took him a moment to adjust to it, but he managed. Barely. 

Arnaud-Wilkes nodded. “Now recall what happened that night with unbonded alpha sentinel Wilkes.  Remember. You were in an alley. It was dark, cold and raining….”  

The sights and sounds of the room faded slowly.  John remembered.  

He could see and feel what was happening again as if he was actually still there, but he had no control and was completely helpless. Another part of his mind was slightly apart from it all and watched the events as they occurred. It was extremely odd that much of the adrenalin fuelled confusion of the moment was dulled and he had some distance from everything.  Emotions and physical sensations that had been obscured were now sharp and clear.  Were Arnaud-Wilkes and the others in the court room seeing and feeling the same things? 

Turning his attention back to what was happening, John watched himself face off against an unknown sentinel intent on capturing him. The man was backlit and he couldn’t see his face.  The smells of the rotting rubbish in the skips and the urine soaked cobblestones of the alleyway were clearly recalled and it was nauseating. In his memory, he watched his breath fog in the cold air and felt the uneven ground that was slippery with rain and soggy rubbish. It was so real, he shivered as if with cold. 

Suddenly his point of view switched and it felt as if he was actually there. 

 _…John watched the sentinel aim a tranquilliser gun at him and he put up his arms to prevent getting shot in the face.  He felt a sting as a dart creased his cheek and felt himself get woozy as some of the drug entered his system.  It slowed his attack and allowed the unbonded to hit his bad shoulder with the empty dart pistol._  

 _Sheer agony shot through John and the pain nearly paralysed him. He felt a moment of shock as the pain shuddered through him.  Despite the damage, he threw himself forward and tackled the sentinel. They both crashed into the muck of the alley and rolled around in the stink. Both regained their feet briefly but then John fell backward onto the cobblestones to avoid the meaty fist aimed at his head._  

 _He barely scrambled to his feet again when a powerful blow caught him in the face, knocking him into one of the skips. His head smashed into it hard and a rough piece of metal caught his scalp. He clearly felt the sharp pain of his skin tearing.  Confused, drugged and bleeding from his nose and cheek as well as his head, John slumped to the ground, nearly unconscious.  He tried to focus and get up but his left side and arm wouldn’t obey him and he couldn’t use it to lever himself up. Despair and desperation filled his mind and he tried to find a way to escape._  

 _The unbonded sentinel picked him up and threw him hard against the skip again and things went black for a few moments.  Reality began to fade in and out as the sentinel held John up by one hand and forced his head back with the other, exposing his neck._  

 _John was shocked when the man began to rub his face against the doctor's throat. He felt the sentinel’s erect penis thrusting against his belly, heard the foul words the sentinel said to him and reacted with revulsion and fear._  

 _The horror of realising the man was unbonded and was going to try to force a bond hit him hard at that moment.  John was outraged and scared. An unbonded had no business on a Hunt!  Unbonded sentinels had little control in a situation like this and could easily become feral. John knew enough about sentinels and guides to realise the man would be a danger to himself and especially any unbonded guide._  

 _The man twisted aside as John tried to knee him in the bollocks and the doctor only hit his thigh.  John was then turned and forced face-first into the skip while the sentinel pressed the side of the doctor’s face into the_ _hard_ _metal._  

 _The man was breathing fast and he growled filthy, obscene things into the omega’s ear.  The sentinel began to grind his penis against John’s buttocks._  

 _Desperate to reach him somehow, John shouted, “Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in if you do this?”_  

 _The man only growled at him. He sounded bestial and was barely articulate. His words were incredibly crude.  “Shut up! I’m going to take you, guide. I don’t care what the other alphas say, you’re going to be mine and I’ll fuck you and fill you with my seed and you’ll have my babies until you’re worn out!”_  

The memory wavered for a moment.  Somewhere, outside his mind, John heard voices raised and sounds of dismay.  He wasn’t sure who was making the noises or why and had no time to discover it before he was sucked back into his own mind. 

 _Shocked, the doctor struggled as the sentinel tried to bite the back of his neck in an attempt to initiate a bond.  The clothing John was wearing prevented the bite and John took advantage of the sentinel’s confusion to swing an elbow back and strike the side of the man’s head._  

_John was sickened by the sound of the blow but it had the effect of driving the sentinel back a few feet.  It wasn’t enough because he came back at John, screaming and snarling with anger and pain.  The doctor ducked and blocked a series of blows that were meant to injure and incapacitate._

_Exhaustion, pain and the drug in his system were taking their toll on him and he had to do something.  However, he slipped and fell to a knee as he retreated and the sentinel rushed him.  John managed evade a massive blow that would easily have killed him by throwing himself to the ground._  

 _By sheer force of will, John pulled himself to his knees again but wavered in front of the unbonded. “You look good on your knees, omega. I’ll be sure to keep you that way, sucking my cock.  Now you will come with me or I’ll kill you.”_ John didn’t remember hearing that particular threat to his life, but his subconscious apparently had done _._

 _The man would have to kill him because John would never go with him. The doctor made the decision to maim the sentinel reluctantly but felt he had no choice.  Gritting his teeth, tasting blood, John clenched his hands together and swung upward using all the strength left in his arms and torso. He managed to connect with the man’s knee and it gave with a sickening crunch.  The man shrieked in agony and fell hard, holding his ruined knee with both hands._  

 _Staggering to his feet, barely conscious, John found the gun and darted the screaming man, quietening him and ending his pain temporarily._  

_He stumbled to the exit of the alleyway and put his hands to his head. They came away hot and black with fluid that turned a brilliant red as he reached the illumination provided by a streetlight.  There was blood was on his hands…._

The intensity of the memory began to loosen its grip on him and the room started to reappear and solidify.  He could vaguely see the family members behind Arnaud-Wilkes’ head and most of them looked horrified and shocked by what they’d seen in his mind.  

Still unshielded, he could feel the chaotic emotions caused by watching and feeling what he’d gone through with the unbonded sentinel.  He also picked up considerable sympathy and concern for him and his ordeal. 

John’s attention snapped back to Arnaud-Wilkes, though.  She was leaving his mind but he picked up a sharp sense of anger and dissatisfaction because she’d failed in her task.  Her intention to catch him in a lie and to humiliate him had not succeeded.  She had instead driven home to everyone present that he’d acted completely in self-defence. It was clear now that he’d not lied but had actually tried to protect the Wilkes family from knowing exactly what had happened that night.

As she continued to withdraw, horror filled John’s mind as he suddenly understood what she was really planning.  It wasn’t that she wanted to humiliate him or prove he was lying. She wanted to punish and hurt him and her plan was to trigger a memory cascade just as she finished retreating from his mind. How she intended to get away with this was a huge question since Mitchell and Elliot also realised what she intended to do and they both moved to prevent it. 

Unfortunately, it was too late to stop her but as she activated the torrent of memories, she released John’s wrist.  Before he was overwhelmed by the cascade, he grabbed her wrist tightly and refused to let go.  She clawed at his hand as her eyes and mouth opened wide in fear. His last thought before he was swept away was that if he was going there, then by God she was going to come with him. 

______________________________________________________

  
What was happening? John remembered and his body shook with fear.  

 _…There was blood on his hands. Fear and confusion consumed him. Intense heat from the desert and burning vehicles hit him in waves as did the smell of roasting human flesh that permeated the air. The earth shook with each mortar slamming into the ground._  

 _The air sounded like it was being shredded as a rocket shrieked overhead and smashed into the hillside behind him, missing the convoy by hundreds of meters. The ground continued to shudder and tremble as debris rained down on him and his patient.  Automatically he covered the soldier with his own body until the rocks and sand stopped falling.  He could feel the sweat running down his back and saturating his shirt beneath his body armour as he shifted to sit up._  

_He blinked perspiration out of his eyes and looked at the sand covering the blood on his hands. He brushed it off as best he could and returned to treating his patient. Smoke from burning oil made breathing difficult and he felt light headed.  Bullets zipped through the air with the sound of angry hornets. They ricocheted with loud metallic dings whenever they hit the smoking remains of the BvS10 Viking that had been blown to shit by an IED._

_He was currently sheltered beside its smoking carcass and was trying to piece together the remains of the young Royal Marine in front of him. John was terrified but had a job to do and ignored the bullets, heat and debris falling all around them as the rockets began to find their range._

_Another vehicle in the stalled convoy was hit and went up in a fiery explosion that shook more debris down on him. John did his best to ignore it as he finally managed to tie off the tourniquet on the stump of the soldier’s arm.  Third degree burns covered half the man's face and John gave him a hefty dose of pain killer.   There was nothing more he could do for the marine until they could get medical transport and he crawled forward, med kit and rifle heavy and dragging on his back.  Hot pieces of metal zinged around him, rebounding off the vehicle or burying themselves in its shredded rubber tracks._  

 _Ahead, in the shelter of another undamaged Viking, John could see Henderson and Forrester.  The alpha sentinel appeared to be searching for the source of the rockets and mortar fire with Forrester guiding him.  Once he had the coordinates, Starr forwarded them onto air support and both hunkered down.  Over the radio he heard, “Incoming soon. Be prepared.”_ _Henderson_   _’s voice was calm and confident and it gave John strength to continue…._  

 _…John was in a dark, narrow passageway, heart in his throat and his pulse pounding. Around the corner were the last of the Taliban fighters in the compound. John had killed the rest of the bastards with the help of Murray and Sobieski. The rest of the team and other rescued hostages were setting explosives to blow the place to hell as soon as John found their commanders._  

 _Three Afghanis were guarding the room where Henderson and Forrester were being kept prisoner.  His pulse deafening in his ears, John stepped right out in front of them and shot all three in the head before they could even move.  Blood and brains spattered and smeared down the walls as they fell.  He could smell smoke as he kicked in the door where his commanders were waiting…._  

 _…Smoke poured out of the helicopter’s engine as they began to fall from the sky.  John was strapped in tight but could see the pilots wrestling with the controls.  Mouth dry with terror, John just held on as best he could and hoped he wasn’t going to die that day._  

 _The view from the open hatches alternated with sky and then sand  then sky again as the ship rocked and spun on its way to the ground.  They finally landed more or less upright with a bone-crunching smash then lurched to one side.  The still spinning blades hit the sand and broke off.  Pieces mostly flew into the desert but as John watched in helpless horror, one blade ricocheted, hit Sobieski in the neck and nearly decapitated him.  The hot metal continued through the compartment and buried itself in the back of the pilot’s seat. Sickened and disoriented, John knew there was nothing to be done for Sobieski, but he unbuckled himself to try to help the pilot_ ….  

John felt his grip on sanity start to shift.  The memories were coming faster and faster, out of control, one blending into the next without much connection. A part of his mind that wasn’t screaming in near panic was observing and strangely removed. 

Grimly, John now understood why Wilkes chose this to punish him. The memories were getting more and more nightmarish as he descended further and further into his own personal hell. The worst part was the helplessness of knowing what was coming but he could do nothing to stop it. 

 _…“It hurts, Doc.  Am I gonna die? I feel like I’m gonna die.” John‘s stomach twisted in dread as he heard those words.  Whenever a patient asked that, they usually did die.  He breathed in the scent of blood and ruptured intestine and did his best not to vomit.  Shrapnel had got through the man’s body armour and had shredded his abdomen and spine.  The only thing holding his intestines inside his ravaged body was the remains of his clothing…._  

 _…John turned his head away from the devastation in the Afghan marketplace where the pulped remains of a suicide bomber were scattered on every surface.  A curly haired child covered in gore was screaming beside the barely recognisable remains of his mother. Her body had saved him from harm and John’s heart lurched and broke.  He scooped the child up and held him tight, tears running down his cheeks to join those of the toddler’s…._  

_…The sky was so pale it was nearly white and the heat radiating from the land caused the scene in front of his eyes to waver.  Stunned and in shock, John was lying on his right side and couldn’t remember how he’d got there.  They been pinned down in the desert and he’d been hit by something. He wasn’t sure where he’d been hit but he hurt all over…._   
  
_…The incoming air support screamed overhead and the hills around them exploded, taking out their enemy.  The earth shook and threw John hard to the ground. Nothing existed but absolute terror and the roar of exploding rockets, mortars and bombs as the whole world turned upside down. All he could see was blood…._

“John.” 

 _…The soldier was bleeding out right in front of him.  He threw himself to his knees beside the man, quickly tore the tough fabric of the uniform trousers and applied pressure against the wound in the man’s thigh._  

“John!” 

 _…Something hit him hard in the left shoulder and he lurched forward over his knees. Stunned, John looked down as bright red blood pulsed out of him and spattered the ground with each heartbeat.  His vision blurred as he stared at the exit wound in his upper chest for a moment and understanding hit him like a ton of bricks._  

 _He’d been shot. Indescribable pain slammed into him and took his breath away as he slowly fell forward over the legs of his patient.  Regret and sadness filled his mind and as he stared at the blood pooling in the sand he thought, ‘Please God, let me live.’_  

“He’s not breathing! JOHN!! Fight this, NOW!” 

Sherlock? Somehow, he was hearing his alpha! The beloved voice was interrupting the flow of the memories but he knew it was only temporary.  He could feel them building up again and threatening to overwhelm him. His brain felt ready to burst and his head throbbed with pain.  Fight them? But how? 

Suddenly he understood. The words used in association with this technique were significant.  Torrents, cascades, flood, swept away.  Memories were like water. And how did one stop water?  

Using his empathy, John envisioned a strong dam that could hold back the painful memories and pushed against them.   Horrible pain shot through his head and he faltered.  But then he sensed Sherlock’s mind in his and it felt cool and calm. He pulled strength from his sentinel and pushed harder. 

It was working!  The memories receded slowly and the pressure receded and flowed away as he continued to use Sherlock’s strength to support his own flagging energy. It was harder to do than anything he’d tried before, but finally he was able to stop the cascade completely. 

As John’s eyes opened, he took a huge gulp of air. He was lying in Sherlock’s lap on the floor of the Tower’s courtroom.  He was lightheaded from lack of oxygen and his head ached but the pain was fading quickly. The first thing that hit him was the smell of urine and vomit nearby.  Had he lost control of himself to that extent?   
  
Looking down, he realised the smells didn’t come from him but from the floor nearby.  Someone had voided their bladder and had been violently sick.  It took him a moment to realise it had probably been Susanne Arnaud-Wilkes.   
  
Sherlock took John’s chin in his hand, stared into his eyes and frantically searched his face.  “John?  John! Are you all right?” 

Breathing deeply again, he was immediately sorry because the smells made him gag. Even after being a doctor for over ten years, the scent of vomit made him queasy. Controlling himself, he replied, somewhat surprised, “I…I think I’m okay.  Bit of a headache but I’m fine.”  

And surprisingly, he actually felt fine. He certainly didn’t feel as bad as he had when he’d fought the guides at the chemists. The energy he’d taken from Sherlock to help stop the memory cascade must have kept him from exhausting himself.  He didn’t feel fantastic, but he felt better than he’d expected.  The pain in his head and the usual nausea and shakiness as the result of the adrenalin rush were the only faint reminders of his ordeal. 

Sherlock pressed their foreheads together and cupped John’s face with both hands. “Thank God. You had stopped breathing at the end and I thought I’d lost you.” Sherlock was shaking as he gathered John into his arms and held him tightly.  The scent of his alpha helped settle John’s head and stomach and he returned the embrace with all his strength. 

After a few moments, the doctor decided he really needed to get away from the vomit. “Help me up, luv.”  Sherlock steadied him as he stood and after a second of vertigo, he straightened and looked around.  The courtroom was empty aside from Sherlock, John, Mitchell and Elliot.  It also looked as if a drunken bar brawl had occurred in it. 

Along with the urine and vomit on the floor, chairs were scattered everywhere, tipped over or pushed out of the way.  He quickly checked his watch and was astonished to discover only about ten minutes had elapsed since the beginning of the memory retrieval. 

Mitchell and Elliot were hovering by the doors, guarding the room from intruders. When they saw that John was awake and standing, they came over, concern clearly written on their faces.  Both of them looked decidedly pale. 

John wanted to know what was going on. “What’s happened? Where is everyone? And can we please move away from this mess?” 

Sherlock put an arm around his waist and steered him toward the doors.  “Of course, John. I’ve got my sense of smell turned almost all the way down and forgot about the stink. Let’s get out of here.  They want you up in medical to make sure there’s no permanent damage.”  John’s stomach twisted unhappily at that thought but didn’t object.  

Sherlock led John out of the room with the two guides following. Once he was moving, John realised he was a bit shakier than he’d thought.  Mycroft and Mr Holmes were anxiously waiting for him in the next room.  The men helped Sherlock steer him to one of the sofas and made him sit.  

“You’re as white as sheet, John. Try to relax. Mycroft is bringing you some tea.”  Mr Holmes was clearly concerned and also angry, though he was trying not to show it.  John picked up on it immediately, though. His brain felt overly sensitive to everyone’s emotions but Sherlock’s at the moment and he was glad he could raise his shields again. 

Mycroft came back with a cup of tea for John, who accepted it gratefully.  It was loaded with sugar, which he normally disliked but it helped him feel steadier.    

Mitchell and Elliot were still hovering. “We’d really like you to go see the doctor when you’re ready, John.”   
   
Sherlock looked at them murderously for coming so close, but John calmed the detective with a touch. “I’ll go in a moment.  Won’t someone tell me what’s happened? Where is everyone?”  
  
The two guides looked at each other and Elliot spoke. “The Tribunal is in recess for a few hours.  I don’t know if you remember but when Susanne forced the memory cascade you grabbed onto her and what you experienced was rather strongly projected onto all the people in the room.  Until we could separate you from Susanne, everyone was strongly affected by what you were experiencing.  

“Some of what you projected before we pulled you away from Susanne was…rather traumatic, so most of the family members fled the room as quickly as possible.    Being directly in contact with you, Susanne bore the brunt of it all and she’s being sent to St Thomas’ hospital. We don’t know what her prognosis is but she was unconscious when she was transported. 

“Some of the other family members have gone to medical for treatment but I think most have retired to a private lounge to recover or to our cafeteria for lunch, depending on how badly they were affected.”  

“You mean everyone in the room was caught up in the memories?”  John was horrified.  Those memories were not only his own private nightmares but would likely be terrifying to anyone who had the misfortune to witness them. 

Mitchell nodded. “Yes, everyone in the room caught the backlash. Once we separated you from Susanne, no one could see the specifics of your memories but you were projecting your feelings rather effectively.  You’re very, very strong, John. I couldn’t block them out or shield you once they started. Susanne caught the worst of it.”  The guide was looking at John with a bit of fear and a lot of respect.  
  
“It’s only right she suffer, the bitch! She caused it to happen and I plan to pursue all and any possible charges against her for deliberate assault on my guide!” Sherlock was clearly furious and both Siger and Mycroft nodded in agreement with him.  

Mycroft’s agitation was well controlled but John sensed it clearly. “I could feel you out here, as well, John. I must admit, it was frightening. Sherlock was uncontrollable and forced his way through the doors, practically knocking over those Protectors.  It wasn’t until he picked you up from the floor that you stopped projecting.”  

Elliot took up the tale. “Judge Hamm called a recess for three hours and we herded everyone out at that point.  Do you feel like you can continue later?  It would be nice to get this all over and done with.” 

John considered. He wasn’t too hungry but the tea had convinced him his blood sugar was very low and he needed to eat.  “I think getting some food for us all would be a good idea and I would like to rest before we begin again.  That took more out of me than I thought.”

“It’s agreed, then.  I’ll order some takeaway for you or I can get something from the cafeteria here if you like.  We would all feel better if Dr Brown saw you first and then Ailbert and I can arrange a place for you to rest.  I can inform Judge Hamm what’s happening and then let you know when the Tribunal will reconvene. We will also need to get someone to clean and straighten up in there before we can resume the Tribunal.” 

Sherlock agreed for them all and they whisked John up to see Dr Brown.  Everyone was relieved when she gave him a clean bill of health and some medication for headache.  Elliot then took them to a private room with a bed, bathroom and small dining area.  A selection of food had been brought in for them from a nearby restaurant that Mycroft was familiar with and they tucked in.  

John felt enormously better once he’d eaten but Sherlock insisted he lie down for a while.  Mycroft and Siger left after speaking to Sherlock for some time.  John had gone to wash up and they were both gone when he returned to the main room. 

Then Sherlock coaxed John to lie on the bed and spooned up behind him, wrapping one arm protectively around John’s belly.  John didn’t think he could sleep but he dropped off right away and slept for at least two hours.  

Sherlock gently woke him by kissing his ear, which was always very nice.  Rolling out of bed, he stretched and groaned a bit.  His head was clearer and didn’t feel as sensitive as it had earlier. 

“Do you think that you can continue?  They want us back there in about 20 minutes.”  Sherlock sounded rather resentful.   
  
“I’m fine, luv.  I do feel much better and I just want to get this all over with. I wonder how that Arnaud-Wilkes person is doing.  Not that I particularly care but if something happens to her, the Wilkes family will probably declare war on me.” 

“She brought it on herself so whatever happens to her is her own fault. The Wilkes’ family obviously planned this attack ahead of time and made sure it would happen by blackmailing Hamm. I understand that Judge Hamm broke protocol to not only allow Sebastian to speak during your testimony, he permitted this risky procedure to be performed despite the objections of both official guides.  

“That family must have something on Judge Hamm and while you were sleeping, I sent Mycroft and Father to look into it.  If he has been blackmailed into allowing this to happen, we will know about it shortly and I’ll see to it he’s removed.” 

John and Sherlock made their way back to the lounge outside the courtroom. The family members had already been called inside after the break and John waited to be summoned.

Finally, Elliot opened the door and gestured them inside.  To John’s relief, Sherlock came with him and sat at his left while Elliot and Mitchell were seated to his right.  The judges and Hayes had not arrived yet.  

Thankfully, the room has been cleaned up and as before, the remaining family members were already seated.  Half of them seemed to be absent and those that were there gave John rather wide eyed looks.  However, Wilkes was there and glaring arrogantly at John. 

Finally, Judges Messenger and Baker arrived followed closely by Hayes and Douglas.  As the judges seated themselves Hayes strode to the centre of the room. “I’d like your attention, please.  Chief Judge Hamm has asked to be excused from this Tribunal, citing ill health.  If it is acceptable to the families and to Guide Watson, we will continue with Judges Messenger and Baker.”  
  
John glanced over at all the family members who were nodding in acceptance. All except Wilkes, who looked startled and then bewildered by the news. His fleeting look at John was much less confident than before. 

“Guide Watson? Is this acceptable to you and your sentinel?”  John’s attention moved back to the Alpha Sentinel Prime.  “Oh.  Yes, it’s fine by me. Sherlock?”  The alpha nodded as well. 

”Since it’s agreed by all present and recorded, we shall continue.  Guide Watson?”  Hayes gestured for him to carry on as she returned to her seat.

John lowered his shields and picked up his narrative, this time without interruption. In a remarkably short time, the doctor was finally able to complete his testimony.  He was astonished when he realised it was over and he sat back, exhausted.  

The moment was somewhat anticlimactic for him and he sighed.  His stomach began to twist in dread. The verdict and sentencing would soon follow. Not knowing what would happen was the worst part. 

Sherlock took his hand and squeezed it lightly. “We’ll deal with whatever happens together, John.”  

The doctor gave him a look of intense gratitude and squeezed back. “I know, luv.  Thank you. It means everything that you’re here with me.”  Sherlock gave him a heartbreakingly beautiful smile that John returned as best he could.

Sitting up straight in his chair, John then turned his gaze to the judges.  Baker and Messenger were talking quietly with their heads together. They then requested Alpha Sentinel Prime Hayes to approach them.  They spoke to her for a few moments. Moira nodded and turned to John.  

“Guide Watson, we will take a recess for half an hour and then reconvene here for the judges’ decision.” She turned a stern eye to the remaining family members and especially Sebastian.  “I’ll be in my office shortly if any one wishes to speak with me. Thank you.”  
  
She then walked over to John as everyone got up and quietly left the room.  “John, you’re welcome to stay in the lounge area or I can find you and your bond mate a private space until we assemble again.  It’s up to you.” 

“We’ll stay here. It’ll be easier for everyone and I’m sure you’ve got some business to attend to right now.”  John was feeling very anxious and he just wanted it all to be over.

“That’s fine, then.  Before I go, I wanted to say that you handled yourself well and I’m very glad you were clever enough to get yourself out of that situation with Susanne.”  
  
John blinked at her a moment and then realised what she meant. “You knew she was going to try that! Why didn’t you warn me?”  He was outraged and so was Sherlock.

The detective stood, loomed over Hayes and practically growled, “How could you allow that to happen?  He stopped breathing! If he hadn’t figured out how to end the cascade, he might have died or at the very least suffered brain damage!”  
  
Completely unintimidated, Hayes did not retreat from Sherlock.  She stared hard at the detective until he backed down. “If you’re finished, yes I knew that Wilkes might do something like that when I found out that he brought Susanne with him. I wasn’t completely sure but I did my best to warn you.    

“I don’t have to justify my actions to you, but in this instance, I’m willing to explain.  The Wilkes family is nasty and vindictive and, as you know, they have a lot of wealth, which translates to significant political power and influence in the sentinel community.  

“For the past few months, they have been spreading rumours and lies about you to the other sentinel families to turn them against you.  They and their allies have also been lobbying hard to try to pressure the chosen judges and me.  I was forced to give them much more leeway than I normally would do for any Tower family because of their political clout.  

“There is only so much I could do to thwart their plans. I’m new to this position and I’ve been fighting outright and underhanded resistance to my ideas and reforms since the beginning of my tenure.  The Wilkes family is one of the most vocal and powerful opponents of my administration. I had little power to counter them and needed to stay as neutral in this as possible. 

“Though I could not move openly against them, I refused to meet with them personally or bow to any specific demands.   But because of who and what you are John, I knew you were a match for anything they might try and I trusted that you would be able to defeat Susanne at her own game. 

“I was right and you prevailed.   Susanne was hoist by her own petard and completely discredited, entirely due to you. Everyone in that room knew she tried to injure you deliberately and Wilkes was horribly embarrassed that his family member tried to purposefully cause harm to one of our country’s brave war heroes. 

“Unfortunately, even though Wilkes couldn’t get to me, it was very obvious from the beginning of this Tribunal that they did get to Judge Hamm.  Sherlock, your brother and father brought me proof of this over the last recess, which is why I was able to have him removed from this Tribunal.”

She checked her watch. “Right. I have to go.  I’ll need to meet with some of the family members who want to have input on your possible sentence.  I have to say that your bravery in the face of the assault by Susanne and the honesty of your testimony have positively influenced everyone in this room but Sebastian and I doubt anyone will question or object to the sentence I choose to give you. Just remember, John, that whatever I do, it is not personal but will be in the best interests of the Tower and the sentinel/guide community.”  With that, she left the room quickly, Douglas at her heels. 

Sherlock was still fuming but John really had nothing to say.  They wandered into the lounge area again and fixed some tea while they waited in silence.  John tried hard to stay calm and not allow his worries to consume him.    Sherlock paced until John pulled him down beside him and did his best to calm his alpha. 

Mycroft and Mr Holmes arrived just before the half hour was up.  They both looked rather smug and Siger filled them in on what they’d been doing. “Susanne Arnaud-Wilkes is going to be fine.  She’s suffered a severe psychic shock but will recover.  However, we’ve made sure she will face punishment for what she did to you.  

“Unfortunately, we’ve not been able to find anything on Sebastian yet. He’s a slippery one and he’ll likely escape any charges for this.  He claims he knew nothing about what she planned to do and once she woke up, Susanne confirmed this in order to protect him.  We know they’re both lying but we can’t force the issue at this point.  Our family isn’t as deeply involved in sentinel business as the Wilkes’ and we don’t have the favours to call in.

“However, we are in the process of discovering just what they had on Daniel Hamm and he’s decided to cooperate with investigators.  Moira is arranging a team to see how far this blackmailing has gone in the hopes of breaking the back of the Wilkes family’s influence on Tower politics.” Siger smiled. “Before she won her current seat, Moira was the Tower’s top criminal investigator.  I don’t think I’ve seen her so happy to follow up on such a matter in a long time.” 

The time was up and they were back in the courtroom.  As before, the family members were seated first and then John was called in to stand before the judges. Sherlock was asked to stay in the lounge area but refused. He stood behind and to John’s right while Elliot stood to John’s left and Mitchell also stood to John’s right.  Wilkes was back in the first row of the family’s section and looking much less smug than he had been earlier in the day.  John almost felt sorry for his obvious agitation. 

Judge Baker looked sternly out at John but the doctor sensed some sympathy from her. 

“Omega Guide John Hamish Watson, we have reached a verdict in your case. Based on your own testimony and that of the Protectors involved and unbonded sentinel Wilkes, Judge Messenger and I have determined that you are guilty on all but nine charges placed against you. 

“The charges we have asked to be dropped are counts #9 through #17. These refer specifically to the incidents where you were attacked without warning by Tower personnel and defended yourself.  This includes the five sentinel/guide pairs on October 5, the two Protectors and the unbonded alpha sentinel Samuel Wilkes on October 6.  It is our opinion that the maiming of Samuel Wilkes was his own fault and caused as a result of disobeying his Alpha Sentinel Prime and putting himself in harm’s way during the Hunt.   

“We both agree that there are mitigating circumstances in your case and we regret the injuries you suffered as a result of the Hunt.  We strongly advise leniency for you in your sentencing from Alpha Sentinel Prime Hayes. Do you have any questions?”  
  
”No, your Honour.”  John was trying hard to control his heart rate, but he knew every sentinel in the room could probably hear it, even with the white noise machines going full blast.   He felt Sherlock move toward him and smiled inwardly when his alpha took his hand and a strong feeling of love and protectiveness flooded his chaotic thoughts.  The touch had the desired effect and he relaxed.  He sent his love and gratitude to his sentinel in return. 

“Alpha Sentinel Prime Hayes will now deliver your sentence.”  Baker sat back in her seat and looked over at Moira Hayes.  The alpha stood and walked to the centre of the room. Her gaze swept the family members and then stopped on John. 

“Protectors, please come and stand behind Guide Watson. Elliot, Mitchell and Mr Holmes, please step away from the table and be seated with the family members.”  
  
She waited until they obeyed.  Sherlock was extremely reluctant to go but John urged him to do as he was told.  
  
“Omega Guide John Watson. You have been found guilty by the judges and I must now punish you. Precedence is nearly non-existent in this area of Sentinel Law and I am obligated to follow the guidelines that have been set in the past.  Your guilt has been established without doubt and the charges are very serious.  Since you are already bonded, I sentence you to three years confinement.”  

John’s knees went weak and he felt Sherlock’s outrage, fear and anger. Some of the family members murmured and shifted in surprise but John barely heard them.  Three years! He couldn’t do it! He wouldn’t do it! How could he possibly have and raise his children while confined?  Would Sherlock take them and keep them at Baker Street while he was imprisoned?  He looked up at Hayes, gasping in absolute despair and shock. 

She held up her hand. “Please be quiet, everyone.  I’m not finished. I sentence Omega Guide John Watson to three years imprisonment and all but two weeks of his punishment will be suspended.”   There were more gasps from the observers but this time the family members sounded pleased. 

John wavered and had to place both hands on the table to keep himself from falling.  He felt like he was hyperventilating and he could feel Sherlock’s concern. Shutting his eyes, he lowered his head and breathed deeply for a moment. Two weeks confinement was very doable and his relief was almost painful. 

Hayes continued with a smile.  “However, I strongly hope and encourage you to check in with the Tower at least once a month for the next three years because Guide Elliot has volunteered to give you instruction and training on guide lore and history.  You are too rare a talent to remain untrained and your sentinel will benefit most in the long run.  I hope you will take us up on this offer. 

“I believe strongly that you can be an invaluable asset to the sentinel/guide community of London and we want you to be a full member someday. Life is changing here and for the better. I’d like you to be a part of that change and help our children grow up to reach their full potential.”  Her optimistic expression indicated to John that she knew about his pregnancy and was appealing to his hope for his own children’s future.  
  
Hayes moved closer to the table and lowered her voice somewhat.  “Guide Watson, I know of your family situation and your alpha will be allowed to visit you as much as you like, though he is not permitted to stay here at night with you. 

“In the meantime, I want you to go with these Protectors to medical and then to processing where you will be searched and given appropriate clothing for your imprisonment. Your alpha will be able to visit with you then, but he must also be willing to be searched and go through a metal detector before each visit.  

“We are very serious about your punishment and you will not be allowed certain things such as a mobile phone or internet access.  All of that will be explained to you during processing. Also, you will not be allowed out of this building until your punishment is complete. If you try to escape, I will add onto your sentence as I see fit. Do you have anything to say before we take you into custody?” 

The Protectors moved to flank John as he shook his head.  “No, Alpha Sentinel Prime. I will do as you ask. I know this may sound strange, but thank you.”  

“And at the risk of sounding even stranger, John, you’re most welcome.” Hayes smiled fondly at the doctor and stepped back to the centre of the room. 

The Protector on John’s left touched his arm lightly and the doctor turned his head to look up at the man. Just as he did so, Sebastian Wilkes stood and approached the table, clearly furious.  

He pointed at John and shouted at Hayes.  “That sentence is absurd! It’s nothing!  This bastard crippled my cousin permanently and he’s only being given a slap on the wrist?  I won’t accept it and neither will my family! You’ll regret this, Hayes.  You’re nothing but a jumped up petty politician and I’ll see you and your guide taken down and run out of London like you did to Fitzhugh. Colin knew how to handle rogue guides like Watson.”  Hayes stood there, eyes narrowed and clearly ready to take out Wilkes if he tried anything with her.   
  
Sebastian spun on John next.  “And you. You pathetic little excuse for a guide.  You’ll see what happens to you once you’re out of here. No one gets away with maiming a Wilkes.  I’ll ruin you and your freak of a bond mate!”  Wilkes was so angry that spittle was flying as he shouted. 

The Protector to John’s left moved slightly away from John and toward the banker but John didn’t really notice because of the amusing spectacle Wilkes was making of himself.  He always had trouble taking the man seriously.

John made the mistake of smirking at the irate man. “You can try, Wilkes.  Somehow, I doubt you’ll be any more successful than you were when you tried to have Susanne hurt me.  You failed rather spectacularly, in fact.”  John watched with interest as Sebastian turned an alarming shade of red and then paled.  

Then the man moved faster than a snake. He snatched the taser from the Protector’s belt and pushed the man so hard that he fell into the chairs. The Protector tangled himself up in them as he flailed uselessly. At the same time the man knocked down Sherlock, Elliot and Mitchell who had all stood to launch themselves at Sebastian.  Most of the family members tried to scatter away from Wilkes, knocking over more chairs and adding to the confusion by screaming.  Sherlock was yelling furiously at the Protector to get off but the man only succeeded in becoming more entangled with the detective.  
  
John was surprised by the events and uncharacteristically slow to react at first. Wilkes grabbed the doctor's arm hard and aimed the taser at his temple.  “I wonder what this will do to you if I shoot you in the head, you bastard! I hope it destroys your ….”   
  
Wilkes got no further because John finally acted.   First he disarmed Wilkes by dislocating his right elbow and then broke both the radius and ulna with a sharp twist.  As Wilkes began to scream in agony, John scooped up the taser from where it had fallen and shot the man in the chest.  Sebastian shrieked even more, convulsed and then collapsed.  John had idly wondered what would happen when a sentinel was tased and was gratified to know it apparently caused a deep zone. 

John nudged Wilkes with his foot and the man didn’t move. He just lay there and drooled.  “I told him I’d break his arm if he ever touched me again.”  He heard Hayes clearing her throat but it sounded more like she was trying not to laugh.  
  
Then Sherlock was there. He took John into his arms and snarled in fury at everyone in the room, especially the hapless Protector who was still on the floor.  

“What kind of training do you give these idiots, Moira? He’s worse than useless!”  Sherlock was incensed and continued to glare at the Protector as he finally regained his feet.  The Alpha Sentinel Prime didn't bother to reply. 

Mitchell and Elliot were on their knees trying to bring Sebastian out of his zone and Hayes called for medical and more Protectors to escort Wilkes out of the room once he was revived.  

“John, if you will please follow the Protectors out now?  They’ll take you to processing and then to your cell. Sherlock can accompany you. I think medical can wait. Dr Brown is going to have her hands full for a while.”

Mycroft and Siger entered the room as the family members were leaving.  “Processing? John’s going to have to stay?”  While Sherlock explained to his family what had just happened, John sat for a moment and tried to catch his breath.  To say it had been an eventful, exhausting day was an understatement.

It was going to be a long two weeks and the most sobering thought was that Sherlock was going to be searching for the serial killer without him.   

 

 

 

 

 

_______________________________________________

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter chapter than usual. 
> 
> Thank you to one and all for your patience, your kudos and insightful comments. I treasure each and every one. They help encourage me and also keep me on track. Many thanks!

For the third time in as many months, John sat alone in a guide cell at the London Sentinel Tower and sighed.  It was the first evening of his two week confinement and Sherlock had just left to go home for the night. John missed him terribly already.  

Once the Tribunal had concluded, John had been taken officially into custody by two Protectors and led away.  Sherlock had accompanied him to processing, where John had been asked to hand over everything in his pockets and to remove all his clothes.  He was then given several sets of new clothes that included pants, vests, thick white socks, some lightweight grey cotton trousers similar to tracksuit bottoms that tied at the waist with a drawstring and a number of short sleeved white shirts that buttoned up the front.  

He was also asked to remove his shoes and given some thin slippers to replace them. John barely managed to palm some of the cash hidden in his socks before all his garments were taken from him. His coat was removed as well and he was told it would be returned to him in two weeks. 

Before he was allowed to dress, he was body searched in the presence of his alpha by a beta sentinel. The man wore gloves and was extremely careful and respectful and never noticed that John had palmed the cash.  Once that was done, the doctor was permitted to get dressed. 

The new clothes were loose and comfortable, but the material was thin and the building was rather cold and draughty in places, especially the older part of the building where the doctor knew the guide cells were located. John wished he had one of his jumpers and made a note to ask someone if Sherlock could bring him some to wear for the duration.   

For the two weeks he was to stay in the Tower, John was told that he would not be allowed out of the building except during an emergency and then he would be handcuffed to a Protector at all times. He knew he could get out of the building if he needed to do so but he’d made a promise to Hayes, Douglas and Elliot that he would do as he was told.   

The third floor was where he would be confined most of the time.  The doors to the stairways would be locked as would the access to the lifts.  A Protector would be stationed in an office on that floor at all hours if there was an emergency or if John needed something.  There was a land line in the office that he could use when he needed to ring someone.  He would not be allowed to have his mobile or use the internet.  

Meals could be taken at the cafeteria or brought to his cell.  He would have to get a Protector to go with him to the cafeteria however and he wasn’t sure that he wanted to be stared at by everyone while there.  
  
A gymnasium with a swimming pool was available and the times he could use it were very generous and flexible.  He just had to let the Chief Protector know how often and for how long he wanted to go. And of course he would be supervised by a Protector whenever he was off the third floor.  

When he wasn’t in his cell or at specific scheduled activities, he was free to do as he liked as long as he stayed in the guide area of the third floor. There was a small library he could visit with the latest newspapers and magazines and he was allowed his laptop if he wanted to write, though the internet access would be disabled.  Sherlock had promised to bring it to John the following day when he visited.  

Mitchell and Elliot had both asked for some of his time over the next two weeks to test his empathy and to also acquaint him with the Archives.  Elliot was especially eager to show him what he’d found there and John readily agreed. 

All in all, it might actually be a restful two weeks and John was not going to complain at all because he knew this was all being done to appease Hayes’ political enemies and the Wilkes family.  It was truly just a slap on the wrist and it certainly could be much, much worse, considering all that he’d done.    

The only drawback was that Sherlock wasn’t allowed to stay at night and that John was likely going to miss the denouement of the case with Justin and White.  He was very worried about not being with Sherlock when he searched the warehouses, though the DI had assured John that other guides and sentinels would be accompanying the teams. 

Lestrade had got the warrants for the warehouses that day but Sherlock had missed out on the initial searches because of the Tribunal.  He’d kept in touch with Greg but so far his teams had not found anything in the buildings they’d started searching. Sherlock was incredibly impatient and wanted to join them, but by the time John was processed and assigned a cell, it was late afternoon and too dark to accomplish anything. 

They’d shared a meal in John’s cell and spent some time sitting together before Sherlock was politely told to leave around seven.  Sherlock had asked to give his scarf to John and it had been permitted.  The doctor then curled up in bed holding it to his nose, breathing in his alpha’s rich scent.  

The chance was remote, but John would not risk that he might miscarry from being separated too long from Sherlock and the scarf had been an excellent solution.  His alpha had promised to visit as often as he could and though it would be painful, John knew they would survive.  It was only for two weeks, after all, and then he would be free and clear to go back home and not have to worry about any of this Tower mess again.  

Exhausted after such an eventful and emotional day, John fell into a deep sleep, clutching the scarf close. He had expected to have nightmares after the cascade had dredged up so many bad memories but his dreams involved running through the streets with Sherlock and giggling like idiots over crime scenes.  He woke smiling and full of energy the next morning. 

A message from Sherlock was delivered to him early with his breakfast.  The detective was going to be joining Lestrade’s search of the warehouses starting first thing and Sherlock would come to see John that afternoon.  

John was resigned to entertaining himself for much of the day and arranged to visit the gym and pool later that morning. A swimming costume, appropriate gym clothes and trainers were brought to him but he was told they had be left in the gym locker room. 

John had no problem with that and spent an enjoyable couple of hours using the nearly deserted state-of-the art gymnasium equipment and pool.  The exercises that Marty had designed for him were relaxing and the mindless routine was soothing. It also helped him get rid of some of the stress and nervous energy from the last few days.  The Protector who accompanied him stayed just out of sight and was very discreet. 

He’d not had the chance to swim much since he’d joined the army and did not remembered just how taxing the exercise could be. John was exhausted when he pulled himself out of the water and vowed to start swimming more often. He’d get Marty to recommend someplace. It would be an ideal exercise as his stomach increased in size over the next few months and he needed to keep in top condition if he was to be able to carry two babies to term.   

After lunch, there was a quiet knock on his unlocked door.  He answered to find Elliot standing outside, looking hopeful.

“Hello, John. Are you settling in well? Is there anything you need?”  

“I’m fine, Tom, thanks. Come in, please.”  John tried not to laugh.  Elliot was treating him as if he were a guest and not a prisoner of the Tower.  He hid his smile and invited the guide inside the cell.  

They sat at the table and John fixed some tea for him from the small kettle in the corner.  This guide cell was an improvement on the last two in that he had some mugs, an electric kettle, a tiny fridge and a microwave.  The water was from the sink in the loo, but that hardly mattered.  He had been given tea and instant coffee as well as packets of sugar, coffee whitener and a small plastic container of milk.  

Sipping his tea, Elliot sat back and smiled at John. “I’m guessing you know why I’m here.  I would like to spend some time testing your empathy before Ailbert has to return to Edinburgh.  Would you be willing to spare us a few hours?”  
  
John nodded. “Sherlock is busy searching warehouses by the river for a serial killer and won’t be visiting until late this afternoon. It will be nice to do something to keep my mind off that.”  
  
Elliot’s eyes widened in alarm.  “A serial killer?  Am I supposed to know about that?”  
  
The doctor sighed.  “Probably not.  Once you’ve finished your tea, we can get started and then I can pretend not to worry about Sherlock for a few hours.”  

“Well, first let me give you a tour of the place. We’ll start in the basement, which is the oldest part of the building.”  Elliot took them to a sub-basement that seemed to hold much of the heating and air handling equipment.  The stone ceiling was low and  covered with pipes and electrical wiring running everywhere.  It was warm and humid, which was a nice change from the rest of the building. 

They walked down a couple of corridors that were dimly lit, heading deeper into the Tower.  As they approached a very small and ancient wooden door, Elliot took out a large key from his pocket and inserted it into the lock.  Chilly air radiated from the pitch black entrance and John shivered in his lightweight clothing.  
  
Elliot noticed. “I’ve got an old jumper that I keep here. Do you want me to get it before we go down? It won’t take a moment.” 

“That would be wonderful. This place is very cold pretty much everywhere.  I suppose you must be used to it but it’s rather unpleasant for me.  After having spent so many years in Afghanistan, I’ve had some trouble acclimating to cold temperatures.” 

“No problem. I’ll be right back.”  John stood at the entrance and tried to see into the darkness.  It was black as pitch and there was a slightly unpleasant mouldy smell emanating from the open door that he associated with medieval castles he’d visited.

Elliot was back shortly with an ancient, oil stained and frayed Aran jumper almost identical to the one John had owned, though much larger. It covered his hands and hung to mid thigh, but it was warm and he thanked Elliot profusely.   

Smiling, the older guide flipped a light switch beside the door and some rather weak light bulbs blinked on to reveal a very narrow set of stairs that led steeply downward. It was apparent that they were in a very old if not the oldest part of the building.  

Elliot had a torch to augment the existing lighting and started down the steep stairs with John slowly following. Both John and Tom had to keep their heads down to avoid hitting the ceiling.  The stone steps were so worn by use over the centuries that they dipped in the middle and John had to be careful how he walked so he wouldn’t turn his ankle or slip.  
  
Once they got to the bottom of the stairs John could see that artificial lights had been haphazardly strung around a large room with a very low ceiling.  The walls and ceiling were stone and the space was not rectangular but rather trapezoidal. The floor was also uneven and seemed lower at one end than the other, making John feel a bit unsteady.  

Elliot used the torch to illuminate more details of the walls around them.  The stones were enormous and John couldn’t tell what kind had been used because they’d been plastered and painted over. Faint lines and colours could be seen on the walls suggesting that they had been brightly decorated at one time.  Scorch marks from an intense fire could be seen in other places. There were dark entrances to other rooms leading off to either side. It was a rather eerie place and the low ceiling combined with the huge stones made John feel slightly uneasy with the thought of tons of weight above him. 

“The London Sentinel Tower has been in continuous use for over 900 years and this is the oldest part of the building.  We think these stone blocks were quarried from Caen just after the Norman invasion. The original parts of the building were expanded at various times but most of the current structure was completed after the Great Fire of London in 1666. There have been some extensive modern additions and of course plumbing and electrical wiring were added last century. 

“We believe this was the original ground floor of the building and there are others below this one but we’ve not been able to excavate them yet.”  Elliot’s eyes gleamed in excitement as he shined the torch around the walls. “We hope to get someone with some archaeological training in here someday to start excavations. Just imagine the history we might uncover!”  
  
John was confused.  “Wait a minute. We’re maybe three storeys below street level.  You mean this was the ground floor 900 years ago?” 

“Oh, yes.  There are probably many ancient buildings below ground still all through the city, waiting to be discovered.  London goes back beyond the Roman times, remember. This city has been rebuilt many times, especially when there have been catastrophic fires or heavy bombing, such as The Blitz.  It was easier to flatten and then rebuild over the ruins sometimes. 

“This Tower unfortunately suffered from the Germans' bombs as well as many fires over the centuries but we were always able to rebuild.  British sentinels and guides were very lucky in that we didn’t lose the favour of the ruling classes during troubled times and always had adequate funding to reconstruct.” 

Something near one of the scorched corners caught John’s eye.  “Tom, what are these?  Can you shine the torch over here for a moment?” 

“Oh, yes. We’re fairly certain we know what they are. What do you think they might be?”  John could hear the smile in the older man’s voice as he brought the torch over so they could see the designs more clearly. 

John approached the stones and could make out the shapes of various pairs of animals painted onto the wall.  They were bordered by whimsically stylised foliage that was all painted in blue.  Most of the lines and colours were very faded and much had flaked away, but John could make out the forms of a horse and a sparrow and what could be a bear and a lion, though it was difficult to tell for certain because the artwork was stylised and not very realistic. Some other animals and human figures had been painted but the wall was severely damaged by fire and John couldn’t make out exactly what had been there. 

But what really caught his attention were the paintings of a wolf and a huge black raptor. The wolf’s sturdy body was surrounded by the wings of the bird and the blue of the wolf’s eyes was still bright as was the green-grey of the bird’s eyes.  

Without thinking, he reached out to the two painted figures and carefully put his fingertips against the crumbling plaster.  Unnerved, a chill of recognition and awe went down his spine as he stared at the ancient remains of the paintings and remembered.   ‘ _I am yours and you are mine, in this life and the next.’_  Faced with undeniable evidence that he and Sherlock had always been one and always would be, John was overwhelmed and dumbstruck. 

“John? Are you okay?”  Elliot put a hand on John’s shoulder and the doctor jumped and removed his fingers from the wall. 

Wrapping his arms around himself and shivering, John blinked at Elliot for a moment before he could answer. “I…I’m fine.”  
  
There was a crease between Elliot’s eyebrows and he was frowning.  ”What do you see, John?  What do these images mean to you?” 

Turning back to the wall, John swallowed thickly and whispered without thinking, “Spirit guides.  These are spirit animals from the blue forest.” 

Elliot sucked in a breath in surprise.  “You’ve been to the spirit world? Without any Tower training?  Christ, that’s incredibly dangerous!” 

John glanced quickly at Elliot and almost regretted saying anything.  But this man had shielded and defended him and John wanted to trust him. “I did tell you I was taught some things by another guide. She had some Tower training.”  
  
“Yes, but this is serious stuff meant for only those with advanced training!  You can die there if you aren’t careful or if you don’t know what you’re doing.”  

Nodding, John agreed. “I know all that, Tom. I’ve only gone there once deliberately and that was with my tutor. The other times I’ve gone I was brought there by my spirit animal and it was for a specific reason.”  He looked again at the raptor and wolf and Tom followed his gaze.   
  
“Are these two familiar in some way?”  It seemed Tom didn’t want to ask outright and again John cursed his ignorance of guide culture.  Maybe it was rude to enquire about spirit guides or something but he just didn’t know.   
  
Since John had decided to trust this man, he forged ahead.  “These two are our spirit guides. Mine and Sherlock’s.  Their forms and even the eye colour are exactly the same. Do you know anything about them or why they’re painted here?” 

Elliot’s eyes were wide behind his spectacles.  “From what we’ve been able to find out, the pairs painted on this wall were the spirit animals of the founders of this Tower.  I don’t really understand why these two are the same as your spirit guides, but the lore speaks of reincarnated pairs that appear at certain times over the centuries.  Maybe you and Sherlock are two of them. The fact that you are a rare omega guide could be a strong indicator of that.”  

John considered before he answered. “My wolf has told me that Sherlock and I are one in this life and the next.  I guess that means past lives, too.”  He felt odd speaking of such private things but if anyone would understand it would be a fellow guide.

Elliot looked at him wryly.  “Not all of us are privileged enough to actually speak with our spirit guides, you know. Some guides and sentinels can’t access the spirit world or even see their spirit animals without help.  You really don’t realise how fortunate you are, do you?” 

John looked at Elliot dubiously and felt a bit defensive.  “It’s not like I went looking for all this to happen.  It just did. But I listen to the spirit animals when they talk to me. It seems rude not to do so and what they say is important.” He was shivering a bit despite the jumper and it wasn’t all from cold.  He wrapped his arms around himself and stared defiantly at the older guide. 

Elliot laughed and slapped John on the back. “Indeed, it is rude not to listen when they deign to speak to you. You know, I’ve been to the spirit world a few times but I’ve yet to hear my animal say anything to me.  I’ve only seen Marshall’s spirit animal twice.”

”Is Marshall your sentinel?”  John was curious.  Elliot had never mentioned him before.  
  
”Yes, he is.  I’ll tell you all about him another time but we should finish up here. You’ll want to see more of the Tower and then Ailbert wants to work with you this afternoon for a few hours.    

They quickly glanced into some of the other rooms but there wasn’t much to see and John was getting seriously chilled without proper shoes.  Much to his relief, they quickly made their way upstairs and Elliot showed him through the Tower offices, the armoury, the main living areas and the cafeteria.   Thankfully, no one paid much attention to him and he almost forgot he was a  _de facto_  prisoner.

Elliot was clearly pleased to show John the archives.  They entered a large room in the most modern part of the building. It looked a lot like a library and had large tables with comfortable chairs placed around the room and numerous bookshelves. However there were only boxes on the shelves and John could see no books anywhere.

“The London Sentinel Tower Archives is my favourite part of the building.  We’re in the process of evaluating the collection and making sure our rarest books are properly stored.  

“We have some books in the collection that are older than this building.  They are kept in special rooms now that are climate and humidity controlled with very low light levels. All have now been rehoused in acid-free boxes and we no longer allow anyone to handle them but trained archivists.  

“We’re trying to raise funds get a special scanner for the books so we can make copies for researchers.  Some of our oldest books have had copies done by hand in the 19th century and we’ve had scans made of those copies.  

“My favourite book was written about very early guide history. The title, roughly translated, is Guide Mysteries and it’s written in Latin. Fitzhugh had the copy and the original illustrations photographed in 2003.  I’ve been working for a few years trying to translate it.  Would you like to see?”  

Eagerly, John agreed and sat at one of the tables while Elliot brought over a large box.  There were fairly decent photographic prints of the 19th century copy along with photos of what looked to be paintings on parchment. 

Elliot handed him some printed pages.  “These are the translations but I’m nowhere near finished. I keep them in the box, too.  You’re welcome to come in here to look through this any time. It describes the abilities that guides had in the past and their duties to their sentinels.  It doesn’t seem that we have as many different abilities now or maybe we’ve just lost the knowledge. I suspect it’s a little bit of both.

“Why don’t you take a quick look through the illustrations while I talk to the archivist on duty?  I’ll be right back.” 

John began to flip through the pages as Elliot went over to the main desk.  The paintings were amazingly detailed, brightly coloured and showed guides working with their sentinels doing things like hunting, fishing and in one case dowsing for water. 

As he suspected, some of the activities were hard to decipher and when he tried to read the descriptions, he realised his med school Latin wasn’t going to be much help.  He was sure Elliot would be able to translate and he made a note to ask later.  

Of course there were many paintings of sentinels and guides fighting battles, as well.  Most of the war related images seemed to show sentinels being guided as they scouted for enemies but there were others where the sentinel and guide were working together to treat battle injuries.  It was clear the artist knew how guides worked with sentinels and there were even illustrations to teach the kinds of touch that were needed to prevent zones and to maximise certain senses. 

Other paintings showed him things he’d never thought possible until he experienced it himself.  One guide was clearly using his empathy to move a rather large stone in a building project.  Another guide seemed to be using his abilities to repel attackers while his sentinel hacked at them with a sword.  The most amazing thing was a guide who was throwing fire from his hands.  There were fires nearby the figure but it was unclear if the guide was picking up fire and throwing it or generating it himself. Something told John the guide was generating the fire, though.  It was sobering and rather frightening to think it had been possible to do such a thing at one time. 

John had never imagined in his wildest dreams something like that could be done, but he also never thought he could lift small objects, make himself temporarily invisible or pick locks with his empathy, either, so he wasn’t going to doubt anything at this point. 

The final illustrations seemed to be a warning though, because it showed guides being arrested by priests, torn from their sentinels, imprisoned or burned at the stake while their sentinels grieved or were held back by others.   As John looked at those particular images, a chill went down his spine and he felt sick.  The pain and grief on the faces of the dying guides and horrified sentinels was all too real and had, in John’s opinion, likely been painted by someone who had been there and seen it happen. 

Elliot walked up behind John and noticed his reaction.  “I don’t know if you are aware of this but part of the reason we have a scarcity of guides is that we were persecuted in most of Europe up until the Enlightenment.  Guides were hunted and burned as witches for centuries by ignorant and superstitious folk and many went into deep hiding.  

“We didn’t maltreat guides here in England and actually offered refuge to them, but the ratio of guides to sentinels dropped drastically anyway. It explains partly why sentinels are so possessive of guides. It’s also why we don’t go out of our way to let Joe Public know what some of us are capable of doing. It would only serve to alienate them and you never know.  Something like the Guide Purges could happen again.”  
  
John had known some of that before but it hadn’t sunken in until now and he was horrified.  “That’s terrible!  I had heard some thing about it but seeing these images makes it so much more real.  It makes me ill thinking about it. I’m glad things have changed for the better.” 

Elliot smiled.  “I agree completely.  The reforms of the 1970’s were a good start and now we have Moira who has been making some remarkable strides in changing the lives of guides for the better.  
  
“If you’re done here, I’d like to show you the new guide classroom and then we’re finished with the tour.  We can meet Ailbert and start your testing before your sentinel comes to visit.”   

John readily agreed and followed the older guide out of the Archives and down the hall toward the front of the building. 

Practically vibrating with excitement, Elliot opened the door to the new guide classroom.  It was large, simply designed and very bright.  There was a podium at the front of the room and a large whiteboard behind it that could serve for lectures or as a projection screen.  There was a state-of-the-art audio/visual projector in the wall opposite the whiteboard and the podium had all the wireless controls necessary for a lecture, including a button that would black out the windows as needed.  

There must have been at least fifty desks and chairs for students and the floor was subtly inclined down toward the podium so the students seated in the back could see above the heads of the ones in front. 

“We’ve got thirty-five potential new guides coming in to be evaluated just this week!  I’m so glad that Ailbert is still here to help me and James with the testing.  This is just unprecedented and I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to have young people here who are coming in voluntarily.” 

John had no trouble believing him because the emotional ambiance of the Tower was almost unrecognizable from what it had been when he’d first been brought in by Fitzhugh.  From gloomy and depressing, the Tower was now buzzing with energy and a sense of buoyant hope and optimism.  And it was all due to Moira Hayes’ reforms.  

“There is still so much to do. There are older wings of the Tower that were shut down for decades and we’re now going in and doing our best to clean and renovate them for new guides who want to live here.  

“Older men and women are also arriving to be tested. Many of them are out of work and want the chance to start new lives.  We’re offering them a place to stay until we can sort out if they are full guides or not.  If not, we have been offering them temporary work helping us clean out the old guide rooms and trying to find them new jobs. 

“We’re going to need a lot more space and thankfully we do have it. The young guides will be allowed to stay with their parents if they want and we’re trying to accommodate those young guides and their families who come from further out and need to stay here, also.  I can’t remember when we’ve been so busy trying to bring in and process new guides!  It’s very exciting.”  John couldn’t help but smile at the older man’s enthusiasm. 

Elliot turned his attention back to John. “We want to start testing you, as well. We’re supposed to meet with Ailbert in about another hour. When is Sherlock coming to visit?”  
  
“Honestly, I’m not sure. Sometime late this afternoon but he’s in search mode right now and probably wouldn’t answer a text even if I could send one.”  
  
”Well, that gives us a couple of hours for testing today and tomorrow.  On Monday, Ailbert, James and I have appointments most of the day with prospective guides but we’ll make appointments with you for testing, also.”  
  
John nodded. “That’s fine with me. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”  He grinned at the involuntary huff of laughter from Elliot.   
  
Laughing too, John continued. “And thanks for the tour.  I enjoyed learning about the building’s history.  I’d like to go back to the Archives and look at the copies of the  _Guide Mysteries_  again.  I didn’t get a chance to read the translations you’ve prepared and I had some questions about some of the illustrations when you have the time.”  
  
”I’ll be sure to arrange it.  I expect Sherlock will be searching more warehouses tomorrow?”  With John’s nod, Elliot continued.  “I’ll let them know that you’ll be coming over after lunch. Is that a good time?”  
  
“That will work perfectly.  Sherlock’s supposed to bring my laptop this evening and so I’d like to write in the morning and then go to the gym for a few hours.”  He laughed a bit.  “This is almost like taking a holiday aside from not being allowed off this floor without a Protector. There are many worse places I’ve been.”  
  
Suddenly serious, Elliot closed his eyes and shuddered.  “Yes, I know. I caught a lot of that memory cascade before you stopped projecting and I honestly don’t know how it is you’re still sane.”  He looked at John with great sympathy but no pity. 

John gave him a half smile. “Who ever said I was sane?  I’m bonded to Sherlock Holmes, after all!”  That lightened the mood considerably and Elliot couldn’t help but laugh along with him.  

 

 

_____________________________________________________________________________

John was disappointed later that afternoon when he got the message that Sherlock wouldn’t be able to visit that day.  The detective and the police had been searching the warehouses all day and they would keep at it until after dark.  Then Sherlock needed to go into the office with Lestrade and it would be too late for him to visit John in the Tower.  The detective promised to come by first thing in the morning however. 

Unhappy,  John understood and resigned himself to cuddling with a scarf again that evening.  There were things he could do, including practicing with his empathy like he’d promised Elliot he would do when he had time.  Time was about all he had at the moment.   
  
Thinking back over the afternoon, he wasn’t sure what to think about his meeting with Elliot and Mitchell that day.  Things had got a bit odd.  After they’d left the new classroom, Tom had taken John to a small but comfortable office Ailbert had been temporarily assigned.  They’d had some tea and run through a few tests similar to the ones Elliot had done before but with Mitchell in charge of the testing.  John had no idea what they had determined but both had looked very pleased. 

Before they finished for the day, John spoke up.  “Tom, before I go back to the archives tomorrow, can you tell me something about those illustrations in that book you showed me?  I had some questions about what I saw.” 

“What did you want to know?”  Elliot’s expression was curious.  
  
”I saw a few things that I didn’t really understand, like the guide who seemed to be throwing fire.  Was he making the fire or was he just able to handle it safely? If that’s the case, did he pick it up from an existing fire?” 

“That’s a good question, John and one I’ve wondered myself.  I’m not an expert at translating Latin, though I’m better than some and most of the page that described that particular illustration is missing from the book. From what I’ve been able to gather, I think the guide was able to create fire with his empathy.  

“However, I believe the information was too dangerous to keep, which is why most of the page is now gone.  I know you saw the illustrations of the guides being burned at the stake, with their sentinels being forced to watch.”  

John grimaced at the memory and nodded. “It’s pretty horrendous.” 

The older guide hummed in agreement. “I sometimes wonder if the pages describing how to create fire with empathy were deliberately destroyed.  Fire is too closely associated with the early church’s concept of hell and demons and our relations with the priests were not very positive, as you saw.     

“I’m actually very surprised that painting wasn’t destroyed, too.  It must have been an oversight on the part of the archivists, but I’m glad that it still exists.  I think most guides who see that illustration try to create fire at one time or another.  Who knows, we might be able to replicate that trick someday. ” Elliot smiled in a way that told John the older guide didn’t really think it would ever happen. 

 

“That reminds me, John.  Ailbert and I have talked about this and we might have a shortcut for you to try.  It doesn’t work for everyone, but it could mean you can use your empathy more easily.  You’ll have to let me in past your shields and into your mind for a short time, though.  Are you game?” 

John considered for about two seconds before he agreed.  He knew he had trust issues but these two men had been there for him and had shielded him during those difficult hours of the Tribunal. They had been willing to fight for him and it felt as if they’d been in battle together so he trusted them. 

“I’m very happy to try.  What do you need me to do?”  
  
“This will feel a bit weird and I can’t describe it in words.  You’ll just have to experience it the way I did.  I have no idea where this technique came from but it’s one of the first things we offer to pass down to guides when we begin to get serious about their training.”  John wondered why Starr didn’t know about this technique but it’s possible she wasn’t at the Tower long enough to find out.

Elliot had him drop his shields. “I’ll need to touch you, John. Is that okay with you?” 

John nodded and waited while Tom placed a finger on his wrist.  A strange feeling of warmth filled his mind and something in his head seemed to be pushed and pulled around into a different formation.  It didn’t hurt but it seemed very odd and a bit disorienting. 

After a few moments of dizziness, Elliot pulled away.  

John looked around and everything seemed different and slightly off.  He’d once put on a friend’s spectacles to see what it was like and the world had literally tilted and distorted until he pulled them off.  That’s what it felt like for a few moments until he adjusted and then it all snapped back into place along with his shields.

“What did you do to me?”  He blinked at the two of them as they watched him closely. 

“Like I said, I can’t really tell you exactly what happened, because I really don’t know.  It’s something I was taught to do and it’s been passed down in training for centuries.   

“It’s as if your empathy is now streamlined.  It won’t increase your strength but what it will do is allow you to use your empathy more efficiently and, with practise you’ll be able to use it more quickly.  Give it a try.”  He smiled encouragingly at John and placed a pen on the table between them.  

“See if you can lift it. You said you had trouble lifting things much larger than this and it took a lot of concentration.  It might be easier now.” 

John glanced back and forth between the two guides dubiously and took a deep breath.  Turning his attention to the pen, he envisioned lifting it. Things in his mind moved in and out of focus, the way his vision did when he was first learning how to look at three-dimensional stereograms when he was a kid.  Once he was properly focused, he sent out his empathy.   
  
Instead of taking two or three tries like it normally did, the pen rose steadily into the air and hovered between the three of them without a wobble. 

The doctor was flabbergasted. “That’s rarely happened on the first try before and it’s never so steady.” The pen fell as he turned back to Elliot.  “That’s amazing, Tom!”  
  
Elliot was grinning so hard it must have hurt.  “I know! The first time my tutor showed me, it was like the whole world opened up.  I was a strong guide, but I had trouble with direction and focus and this did the trick.  It doesn’t work for everyone and some people don’t need it, but it’s a great thing to have. I really wish I knew more about what it was, though.”   
  
Mitchell was smiling too and nodded in agreement.  “Aye, it’s a wonderful tool to have but it’s not something we show everyone.  I’m sure you’ll find it useful in your training with Tom. 

“I’d like to keep testing you all this week, though we do have a fair amount of young guides to test as well.  We’ll save a few hours in the afternoons for you.  One of us will come fetch you tomorrow, say around half four? We should be done with the testing for the day by then, since it’s a Sunday.  In the meantime, you should practise some more.  I think you’ll find you’ll be much happier with the results.” 

 

_________________________________________

  

It was now evening and John was once again alone in his cell.  He wondered what Sherlock was doing and if he was watching crap telly or sulking on the sofa.  Or maybe he was talking to the skull or ranting at Lestrade about something.  

John missed Sherlock so much his chest ached.  It was temporary and he knew this but it still hurt. Walking over to the bed, he picked up the scarf.  Sherlock’s scent was still there though it was fading.  John inhaled deeply anyway and felt comforted. 

Instead of moping, maybe it was time he practiced his empathy.  He’d been putting it off after the demonstration this afternoon.  What had happened to him had unnerved him for some reason and he didn’t understand why. Probably because it was so strange and alien. But considering all the other things that had happened to him in the last few months, he ought to be taking it all in stride. 

Sighing, he decided there was no time like the present. Using his empathy to pick up the pen had been so easy but he didn’t really trust it. He needed to practice and see how consistent it was.  And maybe he’d now be able to pick up heavier things.  Moving about the cell, he gathered a few objects lying about and brought them to the table.  John had a pencil, a book, a pad of paper, the kettle and a mug.  Starting with the pencil, he began to practice.  

It was absolutely no challenge to lift the pencil and so he directed it over a pad of paper and tried to use it to write.  He was able to drag it across the surface without dropping it but still wasn’t able to manipulate it carefully enough to do any real writing.  Just making marks was a huge improvement from before, however and he thought that with practice, he might be able to actually write with it.

Encouraged, he moved to the book.  At home, he’d never graduated beyond being able to push paperback books around on the table.  This time he not only pushed the book, he was able to lift it easily.   
  
Heart racing with excitement and also doubt, he next tried with the kettle. It also lifted easily and though he slopped everywhere, he was actually able to pour some water into the mug.  When the kettle clanked rather gracelessly down onto the table, he sat back and silently whistled in amazement. 

He had done it.  It was absolutely incredible but he’d done it.  Whatever shortcut Elliot had created in his head had made using his empathy a million times easier than before.  Thinking about the book in the archives, John looked down at his hands.  Could he create fire with his empathy? Do a thing that had once resulted in guides being burned at the stake?  Something inside him was telling him that it could be very important to him someday so he would try.  

Looking around, he spotted a smoke alarm in the ceiling. Clearly it was not a good idea to try this inside.  Since he wasn’t allowed to leave the building, the window was the logical choice.  It was small but large enough for his purposes. John opened it and leaned out into the night and shivered.  The rain had lifted and tomorrow was going to be relatively nice but still seasonably cold.  He was so grateful that Tom had allowed him to keep the ratty jumper because otherwise he’d be freezing. 

Pushing back the sleeves, he held out both hands and looked at them.  The guide in the illustrations seemed to have fire coming from his palms but that didn’t seem quite right.  Fire would need to feed on something tangible.  Turning back into the room, he ripped a piece of paper from the pad and brought it back to the window.  

Crumpling up a small piece and setting the rest aside, he held it cupped in both hands. Taking a deep breath and focusing his mind, John envisioned it burning and pushed out his empathy toward the paper.  For a moment, nothing happened but then he saw a black spot appear and it suddenly burst into flames.  Startled, he dropped it before it could burn him and watched it extinguish itself on the way to the ground. 

Chills ran down his spine and his knees collapsed.  Sitting on the floor in front of the open window, back to the wall, John wondered what had just happened.  He’d done something that apparently hadn’t been done in centuries. 

He put his face in his hands, overwhelmed and trying not to freak out totally.  After a few minutes he figured Sherlock could probably feel his apprehension and shock through the bond and so he worked to calm himself and try to face facts. 

The facts were that John could generate fire with his empathy, just like the medieval guides could do. Why, though? What reason could there be that he was able to do these things?  If he were a guide in the Stone Age without matches it would be an extremely useful tool to have and made a lot of sense to develop it.  

How would this be a useful tool for him and his work with Sherlock?  Frankly, he couldn’t think of a time that he would really need to use it aside from quickly lighting a fire in their fireplace.   The ability to move small things and lock picking was much more useful in modern times.   

After thinking about it for a while, John decided to consider this freakish ability as nothing more than another potential weapon in his growing arsenal of guide tricks.  It may or may not ever be useful, but he would practise it with all the rest. 

Knees a bit shaky, John stood and picked up another piece of paper.  This time he’d try not to drop it and see if the fire burned him.  The trick worked just as quickly as before and he tried hard not to drop the flaming paper.   It went against every instinct he had to hold onto it but he found that it only gave off pleasant warmth. 

He watched in wonder as the paper become ashes in his hands.  It was almost impossible to believe it was happening but as before, he had to accept the evidence literally in front of his eyes.  Now he was more determined than ever to go back to the Archives and examine that book again. He wondered what other things he could learn from it and how in the world he was going to tell Elliot and Mitchell about this. 

 

_____________________________________________

 

The next morning dawned cold, windy and clear.  John was up early, waiting for Sherlock to arrive. The detective had sent another message late the previous evening that he would be stopping by first thing but wasn’t going to be able to stay long. 

Anxious to see his bond mate, John was not prepared to encounter the sensation of extreme agitation from Sherlock through their bond before he even entered the building.  Leaving his cell, John trotted down to the lifts where the alpha would be escorted after submitting to a search and metal detector examination.   

John lingered around the lifts anxiously, though he did stop and politely greet the Protector assigned to his floor.  When the doors opened, Sherlock came striding out, put down John’s laptop case and engulfed the omega in a hard embrace.   The doctor felt his bond mate trembling and Sherlock’s apprehension was so extreme that John pulled back. 

“What, Sherlock? What’s wrong?  Why are you so upset?” 

“Not here.”  The detective shook his head. “Let’s go to your room. I’d like some tea.”  
  
Picking up his laptop, John took Sherlock’s hand and quickly led him to his cell.  He made some tea and placed the mugs on the table as the alpha paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair. 

“Sherlock. Sit and tell me what’s wrong.”

“He’s struck again, John.  This time Justin’s taken twin boys from their parents.  They’re only seven years old.”  John could tell Sherlock’s frustration and anger was covering the fact that he was absolutely distraught.  The detective cared deeply, especially about children and he felt directly responsible for the fact they’d not caught Justin yet. 

“Oh my god, Sherlock!  When were they taken?”  John was absolutely horrified as well.

”Yesterday afternoon.  I just heard about it from Lestrade early this morning. He wasn’t notified right away and didn’t know to tell me.  The kids were on an outing at the zoo. Their parents said that they took their eyes off them for just a moment and they were gone. Justin must have done something using his empathy because the boys seem to have gone with him willingly.”   
  
”What about CCTV? Surely they must have shown up on that. Mycroft….”  
  
Interrupting, Sherlock shook his head.  “No. There’s only footage of Justin walking with both children out of the zoo and nothing after that.”   

Sherlock’s expression was devastated. “John, he knows how to elude the cameras. And now he’s got these two boys and if we don’t catch him, he’s going to kill them.”  

“Christ!  What can you do?  Where will you look?”  John felt completely helpless and he hated it.  There was nothing he could do to assist, confined as he was.  
  
“The only place I can think to look for him is down at the warehouses. Lestrade’s teams are supposed to finish up searching the other buildings today, but they’re streets away from the Thames.  However, there are those two near the river that I’ve not personally investigated yet.”

“You mean the former meth lab and the oldest building furthest west? But Justin knows you’re searching that area! Why would he do something so daft as to bring kidnapped children down there?”    
  
Sherlock laughed humourlessly. “Because he’s an arrogant bastard who thinks he’s smarter than us.  The worst thing is he’s right.  I know he’s down there and laughing at us because we can’t find him.  It’s infuriating! 

“Lestrade’s team searched those two warehouses while I was with you at the Tribunal.  He didn’t want to use his manpower to go back over them and so I went by myself briefly yesterday while they were taking a break.   I couldn’t hear, see or smell anything out of the ordinary down there. 

“Without you I wasn’t able to extend my senses as far as I’d like and I kept hearing odd echoes under the street but there is a main sewer drain there that diverts rainwater into the Thames.  One of the other guides followed and tried to help me but it didn’t work and actually made things worse.”  
  
One part of John felt extreme jealousy at the thought of someone else trying to guide  _his_  sentinel but at the same time he was grateful that Sherlock was being careful.  

John wrapped his arms around himself and sat at the table as Sherlock wandered dejectedly over to the small window of the cell and looked out over the lawn three storeys below, trying to regain his composure. 

This maniac was slipping through their fingers and it seemed there was nothing that they hadn’t already tried.  What else could they do?   

Well, John couldn’t do anything because he was confined to the Tower for another ten days or so but what was the next step for Sherlock?  The sentinel was certain that Justin was somewhere in one of those damn warehouses but they’d not been able to find a shred of evidence that he’d ever been anywhere near there.  John believed in Sherlock, though and if he thought the killer was there, then that’s where he was.  
  
Sherlock turned from the window to face John.  “I want to go back. It was in the street in front of that oldest warehouse that I heard the strange echoes but they disoriented me and I had to turn down my hearing for a while or zone. The guide with me pointed out the sewer outlet nearby.  I wanted to search that as well, but there was a considerable amount of water flowing through it and it wasn’t safe.  The water levels are lower now, so it should be fine to go.”   

John didn’t like the sound of that at all and it was apparent that Sherlock knew it.  The detective turned to John and changed the subject. “So what have you been doing?  We’ve not really had the chance to talk about your days here.” 

He held out his arms for John, who got up and practically ran to Sherlock.  They embraced and the omega tucked his face into his alpha’s neck while he kissed John’s hair.  

The doctor inhaled the scent of home and safety and practically melted into his alpha’s arms.  “Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you just said.  We will discuss it later.”  
  
“Mmmm.  I’ve missed you, too, John.” 

“How long can you stay with me?”  
  
”Unfortunately, I’ve got to meet with Lestrade shortly and arrange with him to go back over to those two warehouses. I just know I’m missing something.” 

John pulled back in alarm, suspicious.  “You’ll have Lestrade and one of the sentinel/guide teams with you, right?” 

“Yes, John.  Even if the sentinel/guide teams aren’t available right now, I’ll have Lestrade with me.  The rest of the teams will be there in a few hours, anyway. Don’t worry.”  
  
A lot could happen in a few hours. John searched his face for any trace of a lie but Sherlock was being honest with him.  He went back to holding Sherlock tight.  “All right.  Just be careful and don’t extend your senses too far, okay? And no going down into sewers without backup. Clear?”  
  
“Agreed.  Now let’s talk about you. What have you been doing with yourself? We’ve got some time to catch up before I meet with Lestrade.”  
   
They had more tea while John told him about the tour Elliot had given him. 

“Did you ever see the oldest part of this building, Sherlock? The original ground floor is three storeys below the current ground floor. You may know this or perhaps you’ve deleted it, but Elliot was telling me how London was constantly being rebuilt after major fires and they would often rebuild over the remains of previously existing buildings.  Just imagine how many of our modern buildings are on top of older ones that still might exist in part just below them. It’s absolutely fascinating.”

Sherlock had become very still as he was listening to John.  Suddenly he stood up, rocking the table and spilling some of the tea. “I’ve been a fool and you’re absolutely brilliant, John!” The detective pulled the doctor from his seat and kissed him hard.  “I know where Justin is.” 

With that, he bolted out the door, leaving John behind, gaping stupidly. Springing to his feet, John raced after Sherlock, sliding and nearly falling because of the ridiculous slippers.  

The doctor caught him up at the lifts.  “Wait a minute! You’re going to be very careful, right?  You’re not going to go anywhere alone? Lestrade and his team will be with you all the way or you’re not going!”  John was adamant about that. 

“Of course, John! As soon as my mobile is returned to me downstairs, I’ll text Lestrade and have him meet me there.  I’ll be perfectly fine.”  He smiled at John, practically vibrating with excitement as he hopped into the lift.  “I’ll ring here and leave a message for you in a few hours, regardless of what happens.  Don’t worry!” 

The lift doors closed on his alpha and John couldn’t help but worry.  Something was telling him that Sherlock was heading into terrible danger but at least Lestrade would be with him.  And John would be incredibly relieved when Justin was finally caught.  He couldn’t take much more of this insanity. 

John trudged back to his cell with his mind full of misgivings about what Sherlock intended to do.  But there was nothing he could do to stop the sentinel once his mind was made up.  

At least the detective had brought him his laptop. Trying hard not to worry, John busied himself writing up something to post to his blog once he had internet access again.  And instead of going to the archives as he’d planned to do after lunch, John made sure to stay in his cell, waiting for a message from Sherlock.   

He was standing at the window, looking out over the lawn to the cityscape beyond, wondering what Sherlock and Lestrade were finding at the warehouses, when he felt a jolt of disbelief, fear and a strange sense of regret through his bond with Sherlock.  

Then all sensations from the bond were cut off and he felt absolutely numb. His knees buckled and he fell to the floor of his cell, horribly frightened as his mind swirled in confusion.  Then the world went blue.  
  
Opening his eyes, John found himself in the spirit world and he reacted in fear and terror.  Sitting up, he gasped and looked quickly around.  He was alone in the same clearing he and Sherlock had woken up in last time they had been drawn there.  Their spirit guides were not nearby, however, so John stood and cast about, trying to find a clue about what to do next. He felt a sense of hideous urgency and wished he knew where to go.  

He then noticed a path that appeared suddenly in the woods, so he started for it, walking quickly.  The feeling of urgency increased and, heart in his throat, he picked up speed and began to run at full speed down the path.  
  
Suddenly he was in the large meadow where he’d found Sherlock all those months ago and slid to a stop, breathing heavily.   In the centre of the clearing was his wolf. She was looking exhausted and her ears were back, her hackles raised and teeth bared ferociously at another wolf challenging her.  Her deep growls and snarls of warning were terrifying but the other animal seemed unaffected. 

The second wolf was smaller and more beige than grey in colour with enormous ears. The doctor didn’t know what kind it was but compared to his wolf, which was sleek and beautiful, this new wolf’s fur looked patchy and unhealthy.  It was also acting as if it was rabid.  It was foaming at the mouth as it whined and snapped at John’s spirit guide. 

It was circling, clearly trying to get around her.  John could see what looked like tufts of grey hair on the ground between the two animals and some blood on the beige wolf’s mouth.  John’s spirit animal had been injured and was limping but she wasn’t backing down one bit from what she was defending.  

Then John’s heart stood still in horror when he saw that Sherlock’s raptor was lying on the ground behind his wolf.  His spirit animal was trying to protect the unconscious or injured bird from attack.  

The beige wolf whipped around when it noticed John enter the clearing and he got a good look at its brown eyes.  It was clearly insane and he realised the instant he saw it that it belonged to Michael Justin.  John knew then that he was going to be fighting for his life and his bond. 

Turning its back contemptuously on the other wolf, it snarled at John, lowered its head and began to stalk toward him.  The doctor looked around for something to defend himself and saw a good sized fallen branch. Quickly he snatched it up to use as a weapon.   

He swiped at the wolf but it only dodged to one side and continued to advance. John backed away, trying to lead the crazy animal away from his and Sherlock’s spirit guides. He needed to think!  What frightened away most wild animals?  The answer came immediately.  Fire was what he needed but he had no way to make it.  Or did he?  
  
He continued to circle to the left, taking occasional swipes at Justin’s animal as it followed him. John purposefully led it further away from his own wolf, hoping to buy some time. 

Could he set the branch on fire like he’d done the small piece of paper?  He would need a moment to concentrate but Justin’s wolf was coming closer and he had to focus on defending himself.   
  
At that moment, John’s wolf lunged and took a good bite at the other wolf’s hindquarters, pulling away a good amount of fur.  It screamed in anger and pain and spun around as the larger wolf released it and retreated back toward Sherlock’s eagle.  John silently thanked his spirit guide for the distraction and focused all his empathy on igniting the branch. 

Justin’s wolf realised the feint for what it was and spun back toward John. It gathered itself to leap at his throat when the branch finally burst into bright flames.  John thrust the burning limb at the wolf just as it sprang at him.  It screamed in surprise and agony as the fire caught hold immediately in the greasy fur and the branch knocked it to the ground. 

The flames acted like no fire John had ever seen as it raced across the body of the now howling animal.  The wolf rolled and bit at itself, trying in vain to extinguish the flames. Finally it fled the clearing, yelping and screaming its pain and anger.  Immediately, John dropped the now extinguished branch and ran to his spirit animal.  
  
He didn’t remember ever touching her before but he sunk his fingers into her soft, thick fur without hesitation and she leaned against him for a moment, panting.  But she pulled back and stared directly into his eyes. 

_“Thank you, Little Brother. This respite is only temporary.  He’ll be back, so you must hurry._

_“Your mate is unharmed for now but his spirit is where I cannot go.  This other guide is strong and has hidden your mate. He also wants what’s rightfully yours.  He intends to break your bond and join with your sentinel and he is capable of doing this as he is also another omega.”_

John gaped at his spirit guide in disbelief. How was that even possible?  That Justin could possibly be an omega guide without anyone knowing?  But then John had escaped detection for decades, so why not Justin? 

_“We have only a small window of opportunity to prevent him from trying to take your sentinel from you.  This evil guide must be stopped and you must do this alone.”_

”But…but how do I find him? You say he’s hidden from you but I’m not sure I can find him.  Sherlock said he knew where Justin was but he didn’t tell me! What do I do?”  John was nearly frantic as he clung onto the fur of his wolf’s neck.  

_“You must follow your bond to your sentinel.  Though you cannot feel it, you can see it as a golden thread.  Concentrate and look for what binds you together. It will never lead you astray.  Go now! Before that vile thing returns. I will protect your mate with everything in me. Fare well!”_

There was no point in arguing and there was no time anyway.  John hugged the wolf briefly, he got to his feet and began running back the way he’d come.   

Waking abruptly on the floor of his cell, everything came back to John in a rush.  He was up and running down the corridor toward the phone in an instant. 

He didn’t recognize the Protector in the office but put on his nicest smile. Her name tag said she was Bethany Jones. Breathlessly, he greeted her. “Hi, Bethany.  I’m John Watson.  Have I received any messages?”  

The young woman behind the desk blinked at him a moment and then started to search on the desk. “I’ve just arrived here but Lisa didn’t say anything about any messages for you. I’d have brought it to you if she had, but I’ll check.  I’m sorry, Guide Watson, but I don’t see anything.”  She looked up at him sympathetically. 

John was frantic but he held onto his calm by a thread.  “May I make a call, please?  My sentinel had promised to ring here and leave a message a few hours ago and I’m a bit worried, truth to tell.”  

She made an expression of indecision and then nodded.  “Here, go ahead and give him a ring. I don’t think it’s breaking any rules.”   
  
”Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.” The young woman returned his smile and pushed the phone toward him. Quickly, John dialled Sherlock’s mobile. The phone rang and then went to voicemail.  “Sherlock, when you get this message, please give me a ring at the Tower number. Thanks, luv.”  

John turned huge, beseeching eyes on the Protector. “I couldn’t reach him. May I please ring another number?  It’s to the bloke who’s with my sentinel. He’ll answer.” 

She nodded and John dialled Lestrade.  The DI picked up immediately and sounded incredibly angry.  “Who the fuck is this and why is London Sentinel Tower calling me?” 

“Greg?  It’s John Watson.”  
  
“Why the hell are you calling from the Tower?  I’m really busy. Can I ring you back in a few?” 

“I’m sorry but I was hoping you could put Sherlock on the phone.  I’ve tried to ring him and he’s not answering his mobile and I figured you had got lucky in the warehouse search.”  
  
”Warehouse search?  I’m not at the warehouses! I texted that mad bastard back a few hours ago and told him I couldn’t meet him there.  Haven’t you been watching the telly?  There’s been a major bomb threat in the Tube.  Some fucking terrorist group is taking responsibility and all available police have been dispatched to help evacuate and contain the crowds.  The bomb disposal unit is in place now.  It’s a huge one apparently.  Look, I’m really sorry but I have to go.” 

“Wait! Please! A few hours ago, Sherlock told me he knew where Justin was and that he was going down there with you.  A few minutes ago, our bond went dormant.  I can’t feel him, Greg!” John tried hard not to panic but it was hard.  “Greg, please. Is there any way you can go down there and find him? He could be hurt or god forbid Justin might have him.  He told me about the twins being abducted and he was frantic to find them.” 

Lestrade’s voice was ragged.  “Shit! John, there’s no way I can go down there right now. I’m sorry! Anderson is the only one of my department not here and there’s only a skeleton crew available for emergency calls only right now.  Do you know exactly where Sherlock went?” 

A deep breath kept John from sobbing into the phone. “No. He didn’t tell me but he was talking about the older warehouse and something about the storm drain under the street. He’d heard echoes and wanted to explore now that the water level was down but he said all that before he declared he knew where Justin was and ran out of here like his hair was on fire.  I’d hoped he had you there with him. Christ!”   
  
“Why can’t you go find him, John? Why are you ringing me from the Tower?”  

“I’ll explain later.  If you can get away, please go down to that western-most warehouse near the river as soon as you can.  Bye, Greg.”  

The Protector was staring at him wide eyed as he dialled the phone again without asking permission.  She could tell that things were not right and John silently thanked her for having the good sense not to interfere.   

Elliot picked up the phone after a few rings. John started before the older man could even speak.  “Tom?  Look, I’m sorry to bother you but there’s a problem.  Sherlock has gone by himself to search for that serial killer I mentioned yesterday and our bond has gone silent.  Something bad has happened and I need to find him.”  
  
”Have you called the police?” Tom sounded very concerned. 

“Yes, but everyone I know is dealing with the bomb in the Tube and I can’t tell them exactly where Sherlock has gone.  I’m sure I can find him but I need to leave the Tower. Can you arrange it?”  
  
Elliot was sympathetic but firm.  “John, I’m sorry but no, I can’t authorise that.  Moira and James are in France at a convention of European sentinels and guides and in meetings until late afternoon.  I will ring her and leave an urgent message but I can’t guarantee it will reach her for a few hours.  Will that do?”  
  
Deflated, John accepted the inevitable.  “It will have to do.  Thank you for trying, Tom.”  
  
”I’ll let you know something the instant I hear back from her.  Please be patient, John.” Elliot was practically begging.   
  
“Fine. That’s fine. I’ll wait to hear from you.”  John disconnected and smiled at the now alarmed Protector. “Thank you for letting me use the phone.  I’ll go back to my cell now.  Guide Elliot will probably ring here in a few hours and I’d appreciate it if you’d bring the message as soon as possible.”  
  
The woman agreed and John walked slowly away from the office.  As soon as he was out of her sight he ran as fast as he could back to his cell. 

Once there, he used his empathy to lock the door. It was absurdly easy to do but he didn’t even think about that.  As quickly as he could, he slipped on his extra vests, shirts and trousers and tied the drawstrings as tightly as he could.  The doubled layers would do nicely to keep him warm without a coat.  The ragged jumper went over top of the shirts as an additional layer of warmth.  He then removed his socks and ludicrous slippers and tucked them and the second pair of socks into his waist band. Finally, he wrapped Sherlock's scarf around his neck.  Checking the time, he knew he wouldn't be missed for at least three hours

Making sure he had his small amount of cash put away safely, John opened the small window wide and looked down.   It was three storeys, but John had climbed down from worse heights.  He usually had a rope and climbing gear, though. The positive thing in this instance was that the stone walls of the Tower were rough and heavily textured. He could do it.  He had to do it.

John was the only one who could find Sherlock.  Their spirit animals had warned him when they’d finally completed their bond that there would be times when they’d both have to do some things alone.  This looked to be one of those times.  

If John couldn't feel their bond right now, maybe he'd be able to see it. His wolf had promised. Closing his eyes, he envisioned Sherlock and the bond of love that they shared as clearly as he could.  He’d seen it once before as a thick golden band that glowed brightly in the spirit world.    He wondered if it would be as bright in this world and opened his eyes. 

It was there. He could see it stretching away from him toward the river.  It was a thin, shimmering gold thread that seemed to twist and turn in the wind.   Hoisting himself over the window ledge, John prepared to follow it to the end and beyond if necessary.    

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to leave this as a bit of a cliffhanger. It seemed a good place to finish and if I didn't post it now, it would be next week before I could post. Thank you for hanging in with me and more next week if all goes well!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all once again for your lovely comments and kudos. Each one is greatly appreciated.
> 
> I'm not a doctor or fire fighter and I've used some artistic license in some of this chapter. I hope you either forgive me for it or will let me know if I've got something wrong and I'll fix it if I can. Again, many thanks in advance for your patience with me as I begin to wind this thing up.

Despite all the layers of clothes he’d added, the icy wind whipped around John and made him shiver as he sat on the window sill, looking three storeys down. His bare feet were freezing already.  John ignored the cold as he turned carefully to face the wall. With his weight braced on his arms, he knelt on the window ledge and extended one leg down. Using his toes, he felt around for holds on the rough stone so he could begin his descent.  

The gaps between the stones were wide and the masonry was deeply rusticated, so John had plenty of places for his toes and fingers to rest.  Closing the window tightly behind him, John began to make his way down the wall.  He took his time and made sure his hands and feet had three secure holds before he moved onto the next.  Not having a safety line or even chalk to aid his grip made the descent nightmarish. He started sweating heavily before he was halfway down and the wind chilled him rapidly, making him tremble dangerously with cold. 

He paused to carefully wipe his eyes clear on the sleeve of his jumper before he continued his slow crawl down.  John’s left shoulder was holding up well but he did his best not to strain it and favoured his right side whenever possible.  The muscles of his arms and legs burned and he had to stop and shake out his hands and arms a few times to relax them before he could carry on. A muscle cramp would be fatal at this point.

In the back of his mind, he worried that someone would spot him before he made it to the ground. It was early afternoon and a bright, relatively sunny day.  A man crawling three storeys down the outside of the Tower would not normally go unnoticed. Thankfully, his cell’s window had faced the back of the Tower’s property and there were mostly trees between him and the next group of buildings on the other side of the wall.   

He’d lost all feeling in his toes and fingers once he made it to the ground but he had made it safely.   The doctor allowed himself to rest for a moment and catch his breath before he put on his two pairs of socks and the slippers.   John could see his bond with Sherlock stretching toward the river and through the walls and buildings in front of him.  Thankful that he knew the general direction he needed to go, he stood and ran quickly across the lawn. 

The wall was no obstacle and he was up and over it and on the street in no time.  It was a Sunday afternoon and there were few pedestrians out in that part of town. Nobody gave him a second glance as he picked up his pace and trotted down the pavement toward the river.  He had about two and a half hours before he was missed but he was freezing and the slippers weren’t going to last the entire way to the warehouse district.  They were starting to come apart already. 

He had no weapons and debated swinging by 221B to pick up his gun.  He could also get some warmer clothes, shoes and a coat.  He had more than enough for cab fare and there was plenty of cash at the flat.  Decision made, he turned away from the river and headed toward a more heavily travelled street.  
  
Changing directions was a huge mistake. The instant he tried to deviate from his original path, a sharp pain shot through his chest.  He gasped in surprise and when he turned back involuntarily toward the river, the pain stopped immediately. He’d never experienced anything like that before.  _What the bloody hell was happening?_  Maybe it was a fluke?  Deciding to test it, John took a deep breath, turned and walked deliberately away from the direction of the warehouse district.   

Pain flared again in his chest and this time he felt an excruciating tightening and alarming stretching of the bond between himself and Sherlock. Straight away he turned back and started jogging the way he needed to go, fearful that he’d strained or possibly damaged the bond by his actions. Not only that, but he was starting to experience an unpleasant feeling that he was running out of time and he had to hurry.  Even though his emotional connection with Sherlock seemed deadened at the moment, he knew this sense of urgency had to do with his bond mate and so picked up his pace.  
  
John kept moving for some time before he spotted an Oxfam shop.  To his great surprise, it had Sunday hours. He desperately needed a coat or jacket and some better shoes or he was going to freeze before he found Sherlock.   If he was careful, he’d have enough money for the clothes and cab fare.  He'd not seen many available cabs yet, even though he'd been searching.  The next few streets should have more but first he needed shoes and a coat.

He checked his watch again. He still had plenty of time before the Tower would begin a search for him.  Elliot wouldn’t be hearing back from the Alpha Sentinel Prime for another couple of hours and his escape wouldn’t be noticed until then.  John didn’t even want to think about what would happen to him once they caught up with him again.  Hayes had said she would add onto his sentence if he tried to escape and he had no doubt she would do as she said.  However, he didn’t care about that right now. It was more important to find Sherlock and discover what had happened to him and their bond. 

Blowing on his hands and trying not to shiver as he entered the warm shop, John made a beeline for the coats.  The sense of urgency was building in him again and he quickly flipped through the inventory.  There wasn’t much in his size but he found a threadbare overcoat that had been of good quality once. It was large for him but very affordable.  

Obtaining a decent pair of shoes was next and he looked over the selection.  The ones in his size were not appropriate but he did finally find some worn, slightly large leather trainers that would do just fine, especially with the two pairs of thick socks he was wearing.  

Bringing his prizes to the till in front, he spotted some knitted beanie hats and snagged one.  His ears had felt like they were going to drop off when he was outside and he needed something to cover them.  Adding up the cost of all the items, he realised he might not be able to afford them and pay for a cab, too.   
  
“Welcome. Did you find everything you need?”  The elderly alpha behind the till was friendly but also looked John over in concern.  He gave the doctor a raised eyebrow but didn’t question him.  “It’s a bit cold out to be wearing only a jumper, son. It’s lucky that there’s a sale on all the coats at 20% off. And you’ll need gloves.” He threw a pair of dark knitted gloves on the pile.  

John had not seen any sale signs but was very pleased and grateful. “Ta, mate! That’s brilliant! What do I owe you?”  The man gave him a figure much less than he’d expected.  “Are you sure? I’d have thought I’d owe you more than that.”  
  
”I’m not charging you for the beanie or gloves.  My bond mate knits them as a hobby and you looked awfully cold when you came in.  Ten pounds is plenty.”    
  
John smiled in relief.  That left him with almost fifty pounds which was more than enough to get him to Sherlock.  “Thank you, I really appreciate it.” The man smiled as John put on his new things but stopped the omega before he left the shop. 

“Son, I know it’s not my business, but are you okay? Is your alpha treating you well? Should he or she be letting someone like you out without proper clothing in this weather?”  
  
Confused, John reassured the elderly man that he was fine and quickly left the shop.  He needed to move and time was running out. 

Finally John was once more on the streets, though now dressed warmly in his new, moth-eaten coat. It wasn’t until he was two streets away that he realised all his clothes, aside from Sherlock’s blue scarf and his grey trousers, were black.  He laughed a bit at himself as he trotted toward his destination, keeping an eye out for a cab.  It wouldn’t do for him to wear himself out just getting to the place. 

Whatever happened, he had to keep moving toward his goal.  John wasn’t going to be allowed to go anywhere else.  Not being permitted to pick up his weapon was a concern, but when he thought about it, he really wasn’t going into this thing unarmed.   His newly acquired guide skills had to count for something. He just hoped he could remember to use them when it came down to brass tacks.  He still didn't think of himself as a guide or an omega sometimes and that could be a problem.  He wished he'd had the chance to tell Sherlock about all the new things he'd learnt at the Tower.  Hopefully there would be time for it soon.  
  
John still didn’t know exactly where Sherlock was but he knew he could find him by following their bond.  What he would discover was still unknown and he knew he had to be prepared for any eventuality.  Justin was mixed up in this, he was sure. The confrontation with Justin’s spirit guide confirmed it. Had Sherlock unearthed the killer’s lair, as he had claimed as he left John in the Tower?  Or had the killer found him?  That and what John was going to do about it were the real questions. 

As he walked down the street, he tried to flag down a couple of taxis but was unsuccessful.  Frustrated, he finally jumped into the back of a cab that had just let out a passenger.  
  
The driver spun around in his seat and scowled at John. “Get the fuck out! I don’t let bums in my cab.”  
  
Startled, John objected. “I’m not a homeless person!”  It occurred to him at that moment that he certainly looked like one.  Pulling out a £20 note, he waved it at the cabbie. “I’ve got money, see?”  

The man grudgingly subsided and John gave him the address he remembered along River Road. “I’m not taking you all the way down to the river, mate. It’s dangerous down there.  Drug dealers have had control of that area for years and with the coppers all tied up with the bomb scare in the Tube, there’s no helping either of us if we get into trouble.”  He was driving in the right direction though and John sat back and soaked up the heat of the cab’s interior. It was a temporary respite but he was going to take advantage while he could.  

“I don’t care if you drop me off a few streets away from the address. Just take me as close as you can and I’ll walk the rest.” 

John could see the man staring at him in the rear-view mirror.  Instead of looking angry as before, the man seemed troubled. However, John was annoyed. “What? What’s wrong?”

The man looked away, face blushing in embarrassment.  “Nothing.  I’m just wondering why a pregnant omega wants to go down to that area. I tell you, it’s not safe.”  It was then that John realised the man was an alpha and it was now possible to tell by scent that John was not only a bonded omega but pregnant.  _Lovely._   The elderly alpha at the Oxfam shop must have detected his pregnancy, too. It explained his interest in John's lack of proper clothing. The old man probably thought John's alpha had thrown him out or something.

“Thanks for your concern, mate, but my alpha’s down there and I’m to meet him. We work with the police.  I’m late, too and he’s going to be upset if we don’t hurry.”  That seemed to settle the man’s mind and he picked up speed.  Thankfully there wasn’t much traffic and the cab seemed to fly as they got closer to the warehouse district. 

John held on for dear life and kept an eye on the bond as they travelled closer to the river.  It hadn’t changed at all, thankfully and that horrible, stretched feeling was long gone. 

Watching the deserted area carefully and somewhat fearfully, the cabbie dropped him off two streets from his goal, which was much closer than the doctor had anticipated.  John thanked him gratefully and tipped him quite well.  To his surprise, the man watched him until he was about a street away and then took off like a bat out of hell.  

As John followed the bond, he nearly stumbled as it occurred to him that he’d not thought even once to ring Mycroft. Until recently, John had spent so much energy keeping the man from intruding in his life that he’d not even considered contacting him. Mycroft could have been a huge help.  Well, it was much too late for that, he had no way to contact him and there was no going back.  Castigating himself would not help and he belatedly remembered that his spirit animal had said he had to do this alone, anyway.    

Sighing in disgust at his idiocy, John kept moving and searched the area carefully with his empathy, focusing on the upper floors of the surrounding buildings.  He couldn’t detect any human activity, thankfully.  He kept a close eye on where the bond was taking him.  It was leading him toward the two warehouses nearest the river, just as he’d thought.   At the moment, he couldn’t tell if his destination was the former meth lab or the older building.  They were located fairly close together, after all.

His nose and cheeks were stinging with the cold as he approached the former meth lab.  Bright yellow police tape cordoned off the fenced entrance to the car park and he ducked under it.  Right in front of him was the loading bay and the stairwell where he and Sherlock had fought the meth dealers.  The pipe that had been used to injure Sherlock was still lying on the ground beside the loading bay.  It was a potential weapon so John picked it up and tucked it inside his left coat sleeve, letting the end slip between his palm and the inside of his new glove.  It was a bit shorter than his forearm and he could hold it easily. 

The golden thread of his bond disappeared into the building but he circumnavigated  the structure to see if he could figure out exactly where the thread was leading him.  The direction it led him, no matter where he was in relation to the warehouse, was straight into the building.  It was also angling downward, which seemed a bit odd to John.  But it was telling him he definitely needed to get inside the building to find his bond mate.   
  
There were multiple entrances to the place but all were boarded or even bricked up.  The windows to the basement level were all covered by heavy plywood that had the weathered grey look of wood that had been in place for a considerable time.  John tried to pry some away but had only limited success.  

Great mats of now dead weeds had grown up around the foundations of the building, making it even more difficult to access the windows, as well.  He did find an old coal chute and tried to lift the wrought iron cover. It was rusted shut but he got it open using the pipe as a lever and peeked inside. He could see nothing but blackness and the hole was much too small for an adult, even one as small as John.  He left the cover open partway when it resisted his attempt to push it completely closed.        
  
The side door in the stair well was his only choice then.  He returned to the back of the building and walked down the short flight of stairs.  The door was locked with a dead bolt but a padlock had been added as well.  John silently thanked Sherlock for his foresight because the locks were familiar and he’d had some practise on both types at home.  

John made himself comfortable leaning against the concrete wall of the stairwell and started on the deadbolt first. In practise, he’d found they were trickier than padlocks for some reason and took forever to release. Closing his eyes, he visualised the inner workings of the lock, pushed his empathy out and imagined it releasing and moving in the proper pattern so the bolt could be drawn back.  

What normally took five to ten minutes to complete, took less than one.  To his utter surprise, he heard the bolt snick and slide quietly back. Opening his eyes, he saw the door was now open. The padlock was next and he made short work of that.  

Ignoring the sense of urgency he was feeling, John slowly pushed open the door.  The unpleasant, stale musty smell of rotting wood wafted out and he wrinkled his nose in disgust.  His empathy told him there was no one on the ground floor and he slipped inside. Before he went any further, he replaced the padlock and positioned it carefully to appear to a casual observer as if it was still locked and then shut the door.  He didn’t want to relock it in case he needed to leave quickly. 

John waited in the dark for his eyes to adjust and then looked around.  The loading bay was a raised wooden platform on his right, about shoulder height.  A small amount of light came in through the frosted wire glass window above his head to the left of the loading bay entrance.   The room was clearly meant for receiving goods and likely where the meth dealers had loaded and unloaded their drugs. 

An old oak desk and a broken chair had been shoved into a far corner of the room. Layers of dirt, rubbish, brittle leaves and unidentifiable debris cluttered the rough wooden floor, especially in the corners.  The inner walls of the room were covered with strips of some kind of dark panelling and it was nearly impossible to see into the far corners.  

It was clear the drug dealers had used the entrance often, because they’d tracked in a path of even more grime that trailed across the floor, up some wooden stairs onto the loading bay area and over to a closed door that no doubt opened into the main part of the warehouse where the meth lab had operated.  The bond was leading him in that direction but instead of going through the door, it disappeared into the wall of the raised loading bay and down.  Why was it leading him down?      
  
Confused and apprehensive, John swiftly climbed the stairs and opened the door, trying to determine where the thread would take him.  The main room was huge and much brighter.  Two upper storeys of windows along the two long sides of the warehouse let in a considerable amount of light and John could easily see where the meth dealers had set up.  The concrete floor was abraded and much less dirty wherever their equipment had been placed.  The police must have carted everything important away and all that was left in the room were old bits of filthy, unidentifiable machines and pieces of broken glass.  

The thread continued forward into the room but slanted down toward the concrete floor.  Mystified and sick at heart, John followed it until it disappeared into the floor in the middle of the room. He circled the area but the thread kept directing him to the same place in the centre of a solid concrete slab.   
  
What did this mean? Was Sherlock somehow under this floor? John’s mind spun in bewilderment as his knees collapsed. He knelt in the middle of the floor, wondering what to do next. Without thinking, he placed his gloved hands flat on the frozen, grimy concrete where the thread disappeared and sent out his empathy, trying to follow the path of the bond. The pipe clanked a bit as it slid out of his sleeve and hit the floor. 

At first he encountered an odd sensation of nothingness and his empathic senses felt muffled.  Pushing harder, he met resistance that felt like he’d hit a brick wall.  It made him angry and so he pushed harder and harder until he felt as if his head would burst.  Suddenly, John was through the barrier and he could feel Sherlock! Finally!  
  
The doctor cried out in relief and joy at reaching his sentinel and he could tell that Sherlock could feel him, too.  But where was he and how did John find him?  He tried his communicate his questions through his empathy. 

In return, his alpha sent back strong responses of warning and fear for John. Somehow he also expressed to John feelings of danger, confinement and pain. He seemed confused and disoriented, which worried John. Clearly Justin had done something to Sherlock with his empathy and had erected a barrier that John had broken through to get to his sentinel.  How had Justin done that in the first place? And did the killer now know that Sherlock was free of his influence?  

His attention was diverted back to the detective as Sherlock tried to warn him again. It seemed that the alpha didn’t want John to try to find him because it was too dangerous.  
  
John mentally scoffed at his bond mate.  As if danger would ever deter him!  Sherlock should know better than to try that approach with him.  John sent his love, support and promise to find Sherlock back across the bond and got the same in return along with the warnings again.  John then slowly and regretfully let go of the connection.  He knew he couldn’t learn anything specific that way.  Time was short and he had to find Sherlock in the physical world. 

The muffled feeling his empathy had picked up before was gone and his emotional connection to Sherlock was now restored.    His relief at finding him made the doctor feel weak and he sat with his head lowered while he waited for his racing heart to calm somewhat. 

He needed to think about how he was going to locate Sherlock.  Clearly he would have to discover a way to get beneath the floor.  There was the coal chute and the windows all around the foundations that indicated there definitely was a basement so he just had to determine where the entrance was located.  Surely someone in the police department must have searched the basement when they’d arrested the drug dealers so it couldn’t be Justin’s lair.  John had never bothered to check the police report about the search because he’d been caring for Sherlock’s injuries.  So maybe the police had never found the basement?

Before John could process what he’d learnt, his head shot up as he heard a noise outside.  Someone was coming into the building by the outside door John had entered! Looking around frantically for someplace to hide, John saw a couple of pieces of equipment shoved against the corner of the far wall and quickly headed for them.  He squeezed in between and then back behind them. His coat and trousers were covered with grime and dust, but he didn’t care. 

His heart was racing but he tried to calm his breathing as he crouched behind the iron monstrosities. His nose itched from all the dust and he covered his face with a glove, only to notice too late that it was coated with dust and grime from the floor.  His sneeze was tiny but noticeable and he now had dirt smeared over his face. He tried to rub it away only to make it worse. 

A deep, raspy voice spoke up very close by, startling him. “It’s no use hiding. I can hear you and smell you.  You’d best come out from behind there. You really don’t want me coming in after you.”  
  
 _Fuck!_   He was caught but he wasn’t going to go willingly.  Maybe he could distract whoever this was and make a run for it. John slowly shuffled out from his hiding place, heart beating fast as adrenalin began to course through his body.  

“Quite the cute little mouse you are. Come on out, now.”  John looked up the man with wide eyes. The person was at least a foot taller than John and probably twice as wide. The doctor was facing an alpha with bright ginger hair. It had to be Huw White and John involuntarily started in surprise at the sight of the massive alpha. 

The man’s eyes narrowed at John’s reaction.  “Who are you and how did you get in here?” 

John quickly assessed the situation and realised White didn’t recognise him.   “I…I’m nobody, honestly. It was cold outside and the door was open.   I came in to see if it was warmer and hid when I heard you come in.  I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean to trespass. I was just really cold. I’ll leave now, yeah?”    The doctor slid out from his hiding place and tried to move around the ginger alpha toward the door.  

White looked confused and seemed inclined to let him go until he took a deep breath and caught John’s scent.  Moving faster than John would have given the huge man credit for, he grabbed John’s coat sleeve near the right shoulder with a fist the size of a small ham and pulled him around. John had no way to resist the man’s strength.  
  
”Hold on a minute.  You’re an omega and you’re up the duff.  Where’s your alpha?” The man’s small, close-set brown eyes darted suspiciously around the room. 

John tried to make himself look small and helpless.  Cringing away as if in fear, he stammered, “Look, I’m really sorry! Please let me go!”   
  
The alpha frowned and shook John as if he weighed nothing.  “I asked you a question and you damn well better answer me.  Where’s your alpha? Is he around here somewhere?” 

The strength of the man was truly frightening and John’s teeth practically rattled in his head.  “No!  She’s not here. She said she was going to find work in London but she’s gone. I…she promised me she wouldn’t leave me.”  John allowed his voice to wobble as if he were on the brink of tears from fear and loss.  It was close to how he was really feeling so it wasn’t much of a stretch. 

White looked down at John’s quaking form, clearly trying to think what to do.  John kept up with the helpless, pitiful act but used the time to observe the alpha closely.  Something was wrong with White's reactions and the sluggish way the alpha’s mind was working reminded John of the manager of Justin’s building, Mr Hopewell.  It appeared that Justin had been messing with White’s mind, too, just as Sherlock had speculated he might have done. But White seemed worse than Hopewell. 

He caught at White’s hand where it was gripping his sleeve and started to cry and whinge.  “Please, mister. Please let me go. You’re hurting me.” 

White dropped him and John darted for the door as fast as he could run.  It appeared the alpha had expected that because the doctor got no more than a few steps away and White snagged him hard by the back of his neck, just like Fitzhugh had done all those months ago in France.  And like before, John was nearly paralysed by the hold. Breathless with anger and surprise, the omega pawed feebly at the unbreakable grip but was held in place, helpless as a kitten with no way to fight back. 

White brought John close to his body and scented his neck under Sherlock’s scarf.  The doctor grimaced in distaste at being so close to an alpha that didn’t belong to him.  The man’s scent was unpleasant to say the least and his breath was worse.  
  
The alpha pulled back and looked at him narrowly with a confused and vague expression. “You smell good but there’s something on you that’s familiar. Since you don’t have an alpha, you belong to me now, but I need to check with my guvnor first.  I was supposed to do something else here but I don’t remember. I’ll ask him again. You’ll keep in the basement and I’ll fetch you later. Come on.” 

John stiffened at the words.  White had swallowed his lie that he was a homeless person with a missing alpha. But the man now wanted to keep him?  Unfortunately, the doctor had no choice but to go with the behemoth and was literally dragged by the scruff of his neck back down to the room where he’d entered the warehouse.  White took him to the darkest corner and pushed something that John’s unadjusted eyes couldn’t see somewhere high up on the wall.   
  
A section of panelling sank backward and then slid noiselessly behind another section, revealing a wide doorway.  White pushed the door open and hauled John over the low skirtingboard and down a long flight of steps.  It was pitch black, cold and the smell of rotting wood was even stronger there.  When the alpha turned a switch on the wall at the bottom of the stairs,  a weak light bulb came on and illuminated a small room with two more doors. One door was blocked with a very heavy metal bar across it and the other was ajar to reveal another large, open and very empty space.  

John’s heart sank as he realised that he was now in the actual basement of the building. It was dimly illuminated like the room he was in but from what he could see, there was nothing in the the basement but pipes running across the ceiling to an ancient looking wrought iron furnace. 

It certainly wasn’t where Sherlock was being held prisoner.  The floor of the basement was laid in brick and was very solid from where John was standing.  The foundation looked much older than the rest of the building. As unbelievable as it seemed, the place Sherlock was being held must be somewhere even further below.  
  
It was then that John recalled what he’d been discussing in his cell with Sherlock before the sentinel had his epiphany and abruptly left the room.  John had been telling him about the ancient building below the Tower and that many buildings in London had remains of older structures beneath the newer construction.  Sherlock must have figured out where Justin was from his previous explorations and from what John had told him. 

Sherlock had said that he’d been disoriented when he’d first searched outside the buildings and the guide who tried to help him had made it worse.  That he’d heard strange echoes in the street outside the two buildings that he’d chalked up to the storm sewer.  Could there be more to that? 

Sherlock had deduced that Justin must have discovered the remains of earlier buildings below the warehouses and accessed them somehow! Once found, the killer must have paid the illegal, foreign workers to renovate the buried building, making it habitable and somehow hooking up utilities illegally. It certainly could be done and the workers had the skills to do it from what they’d found out about them.  Also, it was regrettably convenient that none were available to be questioned any longer. 

How was John going to find the location and get in, hopefully without Justin being the wiser?  It seemed that White was going to have to be his key to accessing the place where Sherlock was being kept.  But did he really want to be dragged there by the alpha?  If there was any way to trick the information out of him, he would prefer to do that and then find a way to eliminate the man.  It would be too dangerous to try to fight both White and Justin together, though fighting Justin might not involve a physical battle.  

He would figure something out.  In the meantime, White said he’d leave him in the basement. It wouldn’t be too difficult to break out of this room once the alpha was gone and follow him.   
  
”I’m going to let you go but don’t try anything or I’ll hurt you.”  The gravelly voice startled him and John gave the man a jerky nod, keeping up the helpless routine.

“I promise, mister. I won’t do anything. Please don’t hurt me!” 

White grunted and let him go, turning to the barred door.  John staggered and nearly fell to his knees on very shaky legs as both of his hands went up to the nape of his neck to massage the bruises the alpha left there.  

The man had the bar off and the door open before John was even steady on his feet.  The room beyond the entrance was black as pitch.  “Get in there and wait for me to come back.  Don’t make a fuss. There ain’t nobody around to hear you now that the meth heads have gone.”  The alpha sounded pleased by that, somehow.   
  
He pushed John into the room and slammed the door.  The doctor could hear the bar being shoved back and he placed his ear against the wood.  Listening intently, he heard White’s footsteps walk away but then nothing.  

Escaping from this room was going to be difficult if not impossible.  Focusing on the metal bar across the door, he tried to use his empathy to lift it.  He kept at it for a few moments but it wouldn’t budge and he was afraid he’d exhaust himself if he continued.  Giving it up as a bad job, he turned his back to the door and was surprised to see a glimmer of light off to his left.  He took some careful steps forward, hoping there wasn’t rubbish on the floor just waiting for him to stumble over.  

He turned a sharp corner to find himself blinking up in surprise at the coal chute cover he’d left partly open.  As his eyes adjusted, he could see the remains of the wooden coal chute itself collapsed on the floor below it.  If he tried, he could use it to climb up to the hole, but there was no way he could fit through.   He sighed as he looked up at the sunlight and exit, so close and yet so far.  It was then he heard a sniffle and he swung around, looking in vain into the dark corners.  
  
”Who’s there?  Is there someone in here?” He let the pipe slip unobtrusively from his sleeve and grasped it tightly with his gloved hand. Whoever it had been sounded young and John was horrified to think of who it might be. His empathy confirmed his worst fears.  He sank to his knees in the shaft of sunlight and set down the pipe. 

“Please, who’s there? It’s okay, I won’t hurt you, I promise.  I’m stuck here, too, just like you. My name’s John.  John Watson. Please, come out.”  John waited and heard a soft shifting and a shuffling sound as two pairs of feet came slowly toward him from a far corner.  
  
It was the missing twin boys.  They were holding tight to each other and their faces were grimy and tearstained. They looked cold and hungry. John didn’t know their names but he smiled at them even as his heart broke and he blinked back tears.  They looked so scared and without thinking he held out his arms to them.   
  
The boys hesitated for a moment and then both ran to him. He held them close as they cried, murmuring meaningless things to them and comforting them as best he could.  After a few minutes, John wiped their eyes with his ratty jumper sleeve and sat back to look at them both.  Aside from being dirty, cold and hungry, they seemed to be okay.

“My name’s John.  Can you tell me yours?”  He gave them both a smile as they looked at each other with wide blue eyes and then back at him.  
  
The twin on the left spoke first. “I’m Ricky and this is Trey. You smell like our mum.  She’s going to give us a brother or sister soon.” Trey nodded seriously in agreement as he wiped his nose with his coat sleeve. “Are you gonna be a mum, too?”   
  
John laughed and couldn’t help but grin at the boys.  ”Yes, but that’s not important right now. We’re going to get you out of here and I need you both to be brave.  Do you see that hole in the wall way up there?”  Both children looked and nodded.  “If I lift you up there, do you think you could climb out the rest of the way? I know it’s high, but if you can get out, you can run down the street and call the police and tell them I’m here. Then you’ll be able to go home to your mum and dad.  Do you think you can do that?” 

Both boys looked scared.  Ricky shook his head and whispered, “That crazy man might find us again. He took us from the zoo and left us here.”  
  
“Well, the crazy man is busy right now so it’s the perfect time for you to run away.  Can you both run fast? Who’s the fastest?”  Both raised their hands and then giggled. “We’re both as fast as the other. We never win races against each other.”  
  
”Well, this is the perfect time to try.  There’s a shop that’s about eight streets up from here. They stay open all day and night and the shopkeeper will help you. Tell him who you are and that you’ve been kidnapped. Tell him to call 999 and wait with him.  Don’t let anyone else take you anywhere until the police get there.  If anyone tries, scream as loud as you can.  If you go now, no one can catch you. I promise.”  
  
Staring at John with huge blue eyes, both boys nodded in unison. John silently gave thanks to whatever deity watched over seven year olds.  “Okay, Ricky, I’ll take you first. Let me get this set up.”  
  
It took just a few moments to pile the wood and debris from the remains of the chute so that John could climb it.  Once it seemed secure, he gestured to Ricky.  “Okay, luv.  Put your arms around my neck and hold on around my waist tight with your legs.”   
  
Climbing up the rickety construction was nerve-racking while holding the child to his chest but he got him about halfway up the wall. Turning the boy in his arms, he raised him as high as he could while staying balanced. Ricky climbed like a monkey as John pushed him up and out of the coal chute.  Once the boy was free and in the weeds looking back down, John descended his makeshift ladder and got Trey up and out as well.  
  
Both boys looked down at him for last minute instructions.  “Do you see the road to your right, luvs?”  Both boys looked over and nodded.  “Run as fast as you can down that road until you see the shop.  Can you do that? Don’t stop for anything, okay? And tell the police about this place as soon as you can. Run now and I’ll see you later.”  John smiled up at the two anxious children. 

“Thanks, Mr Watson,” they called out in unison and then they were gone.  He could hear their footsteps pounding away and he sank down on the brick floor in the waning sunlight, feeling relief. If he died here this day, at least he knew those children would be safe and back home with their parents in a few hours. 

The question John couldn’t answer was why did Justin imprison both boys in the warehouse and not his underground lair?  Was he that confident that the police wouldn’t look there? Justin was probably justified in his belief because it seemed no one on the force had found the basement or even bothered to look for it, despite there being clear evidence it was there.  John was surprised and couldn’t decide if it was laziness on the part of the first search teams or if the right hand just didn’t what the left was doing.  It was probably a little of both.   
  
John was certain that Sherlock would have discovered the basement this afternoon and found the boys if he’d been able to continue the searches like he had planned.  Or would he?  It seemed that White had been sent to the warehouse for some reason but he had been distracted by finding John.  Had he been sent to collect the boys?  It seemed likely and John was doubly glad he’d been able to rescue them. He hoped they were safe with the police and their parents soon. Whatever Justin had been doing to White’s mind had made the man beyond stupid.  

But why hadn’t Justin brought them into his main lair, yet?  Was it difficult to get to the underground building and he couldn’t handle both children himself?  Or maybe it was something simple like Justin had been busy and didn’t want to be bothered with noisy children.   He had Sherlock now and so possibly he’d not had time to deal with them.  Had he kidnapped the boys and left them where evidence of them was sure to be found in order to lure Sherlock close so he could capture him? 

Whatever reason, White was going to be back soon and John needed to be ready.  First thing he wanted to try to do was close the coal chute cover completely if possible.  That way there’d be no evidence of how the children had escaped and he could claim ignorance of their existence.  Hopefully White wouldn’t try to sniff him again. The children’s scents were weak, though and his coat was now covered with old coal dust and a lot of dirt.   
  
Climbing his makeshift ladder again, John used the pipe to snag and pull on the coal chute cover.  It resisted but finally gave with a crash, causing John to slip and lose the pipe.  He managed to land on his feet and spent a good few minutes searching in the darkness for the pipe.  But he’d heard the approximate location where it had landed and found it. Hiding it in his sleeve again, he made is way carefully to the exit and then sat down across from it to wait for White to return. 

John had huddled up with his arms around his knees, trying to look small and pitiful when he heard footsteps not more than five minutes later.  The metal bar was released and he blinked up at the backlit figure of White in the doorway.   White smelled wet now and John noticed the man was wearing a pair of Wellies that he’d not had on before.  

“You lied to me.  I know now why you smell familiar. Your alpha is Sherlock Holmes and your scarf smells like him.  I remembered when I got over to my guvnor’s and smelled that posh bastard’s scent.  You belong to him!”  White seemed to be both disappointed and gleeful.  “Justin was proud of me.  He said I could have you but then he wants you next. He’s got plans for you but I get you first!”  White chuckled and his eyes gleamed in excitement.  “This is going to be fun! I’ve not fucked an omega in a long time!”  
  
John’s blood ran cold.  Deciding to ignore the part where Justin apparently told White the alpha could rape him, he tried to get some information about Justin’s whereabouts.  “What do you mean, Justin wants me? Where is he? He must be very smart to be able to hide his place.  I’ll go there myself if he’s got my alpha. I can find it myself.”  
  
The man shook his head and looked sly.  “No, you’ll never find it. Justin is smarter than you’ll ever be. You can only find the entrances if you know where to look. I helped him build them.”  
  
John stood up from the cold floor and stretched his cramped muscles, getting ready.  “Well, you must be very clever, too. Tell me where it is.”  

White grinned evilly at him.  “No, I’ll take you there and you’ll see Justin, but only after I’ve had you. He said I could do and to take my time but to be sure not to kill you. So I’ll bring you to my room first. Come out of there.”  White had a very long length of cord in his enormous hands, which were trembling in excitement. 

John didn’t like the sound of that at all but he moved toward to door, trying to crowd the alpha out of the way, hoping he wouldn’t ask after the kids. Surprisingly, the man didn’t and grabbed John by the upper arm again and pushed him against the wall. The omega had the presence of mind to hide the pipe far up his sleeve so the alpha didn’t find it as he fumbled for John’s wrists. 

“Give me your hands.”  John didn’t have a chance to avoid him and had to allow White to tie his hands in the front.   White might as well not have bothered because the doctor knew at least ten ways to get out of bindings within 30 seconds.  

However, White tied the bonds on his wrists and then looped the excess rope tightly around John’s neck, pulling his hands up toward his throat. The knot was tied around his neck in such a way that if White pulled, it would choke John and the alpha could hold onto the rest of the cord like a leash.  That complicated things a bit, but John was confident he could get it off quickly.  
  
However, he still didn’t know how to find an entrance to Justin’s lair so he resigned himself to having to wait for his chance. John allowed White to close and bar the door again and then drag him into the other part of the basement.  Confused, John looked around as White brought him over to the enormous coal-burning furnace he’d glimpsed from the other room.

It was wrought iron, covered in dust and coal soot and looked to have been forged in the 19th century.  About one hundred years of dirt and debris had built up around the base.  It was so large it would have to be cut into pieces if it were ever to be removed from the building.  

John wondered why they were there when White flipped something on the furnace and the monstrous piece of metal lifted up then pivoted out and over to one side, never disturbing the square of dirt. Whatever mechanism used was completely silent and John gaped in surprise.  White smirked at John’s astonishment.  The doctor wasn’t sure if even Sherlock would have found this or thought to look for something like it. It must have cost a fortune to rig something like that and it seemed Justin had the money to burn.

A large metal door was revealed in the brick wall that had been hidden completely by the furnace.  The entrance was covered by an elaborately decorated but somewhat rusted iron gate that looked to be of Victorian manufacture.   

As White hauled John to the door, the doctor could see that there were still wet footprints on the brick floor leading from the gate and into the room. This was where White had apparently re-entered the building after he’d locked John up in the other room with the children.  
  
White gripped the rope tightly and yanked while giving John a warning frown. He then pulled open the gate and unlocked the metal door.  Both the gateway and door swung open noiselessly on well oiled hinges to reveal a brick passageway leading out and sloping gently down. The metal door was new and sealed the entrance completely. The corridor was roughly oval in shape with a flat floor.  It was very large and the brickwork was of high quality.  Now the door was open, cold, wet smelling air wafted out and filled the room. 

“Fuck. Wait, I forgot. I’m supposed to get the kids, too.”  White yanked on John’s leash, which tightened it further around his neck.  The alpha then looped it around the decorative metalwork of the gate and knotted it securely.  Glaring at John, he warned, “Don’t try anything.”  With that, the alpha pulled out another long length of rope from his coat pocket and started back to the barred room.  
  
John realised had to make a decision quickly.  Should he try to escape now and find his own way to Sherlock or let White discover the missing children and see what happened?  His pulse picked up and his heart began to race as he dithered. 

If Justin had such clever hidden entrances could John risk eliminating White from the equation and try to find his own way inside?  Justin knew that White had found John and he would be expecting him at some point, but apparently not for a while, since he was going to allow White time to rape him, probably repeatedly. 

If he was to put White down, he would need some room to manoeuvre.  It would be difficult but he’d had training and knew how to fight men larger than himself.  Much of it involved staying out of reach and wearing them down until they were too tired to move. 

Once he had White unconscious and bound with his own cords, John would look for Sherlock.  He would have to sneak in before Justin missed his brain-damaged underling.   Justin could do a lot of damage to Sherlock if he knew John was coming for him, so it was best John make his own way there as quickly as possible.  

Having made his decision, John used his teeth to untie the knots on his wrists and removed the rope from around his neck. The basement wasn’t the ideal place to fight so he ran quickly for the stairway in the other room. As he passed the open door where White was, he could hear the man’s frustrated grunts as he searched for the boys. 

John knew the door at the top of the stairs was unlocked but he wasn’t sure how to unlock the panelling.  When he got to the top and opened the door, he saw a lever in the wall and pulled. As before, the panelling sank inward and moved off to one side. 

It was then that he heard a roar of fury from White and John leaped through the opening just as the alpha barrelled out of the room below and lurched up the stairs after him.   
  
Christ, even wearing Wellies, the man was  _fast_!  The man’s mental abilities might be damaged and slow, but his body worked just fine. The alpha was nearly on him!  Instead of fumbling to unlock the exit to the outside, John threw himself up the steps of the loading bay and dashed through the open door and onto the ground floor of the warehouse.  It was better illuminated and there was plenty of room for him to run and dodge.  His strategy was to wear down the alpha, stay out of reach and use the pipe to incapacitate the man as quickly and efficiently as possible.  

Reaching the centre of the room, he spun to face the door, stripped off his gloves and allowed the pipe to fall out of his coat sleeve to where he could grip it tightly. He kept it braced and slightly hidden against his forearm, breathed deeply and balanced on his toes, ready for the bull of a ginger alpha to come raging at him.  
  
Clearly, White was absolutely furious and wasn’t going to hold anything back.  He meant to seriously injure the doctor, if not kill him in his frenzy. John had to be quick and give no quarter, either. 

The alpha ran at John full tilt, practically foaming at the mouth in rage, arms out wide to either swipe at John or grapple with him. The doctor stood his ground until the last possible second until White was committed and literally dove under the man’s grasping arms and behind him, rolling like a gymnast and using the pipe to tangle deliberately with the over balanced alpha’s legs.  He sent the huge man sprawling and crashing hard on his face into the rough concrete floor.   
  
John was up and swinging the pipe with all his strength at White’s head as the man got up, face and hands scraped and bloody.  But the alpha seemed to sense what John was doing and got an arm up to block the blow.  The rough end of the pipe grazed the side of White’s head, cutting it and making it bleed profusely.  Most of the strength of John’s blow was deflected into the man’s left shoulder and it connected with a satisfying crack. The alpha yelped in pain but got up so fast that John had to back peddle to keep out of the man’s reach.  
  
It was vital that John stay away from White’s grip at all costs or he would lose everything.  It was apparent the man was incredibly fast and strong for his size, but he was completely untrained.  Because of his massive bulk and strength, he probably had never really needed to learn to fight properly. He just had to grab hold of his opponent and then pound.  Thankfully, John knew just how to deal with dumb brawlers like White by fighting smart.  He wasn’t so confident that he assumed he would get out of this unscathed, but he knew he had a good chance to win if he paid attention and was careful.  Plus, White was a typical alpha in that he underestimated anyone who was not another alpha. 

John continued to back away and stayed just out of reach, leading the man in circles around the room and avoiding his fury-filled blind rushes until the alpha began to tire.  John was carefully pacing himself while White was getting even angrier and more frustrated by the minute when he couldn’t get a hand on John.   His swinging blows were wilder and less controlled and he was stumbling.  As they circled each other, the doctor consistently got in bruising hits with the pipe that infuriated White, but unfortunately John couldn’t get close enough to do any serious damage.  And John was starting to tire, too. 

Breathing hard, White took a moment to scream at John, spittle and blood flying.  “You fucking bastard! I’ll get you. It’s just a matter of time. And then you’ll know what real pain is!” 

He launched himself at the doctor and nearly got a hold on his collar but John ducked, swung the pipe and connected with the alpha’s elbow.  John spun away as White howled in agony. The doctor was fairly sure he’d heard bones break but the alpha got to his feet and came at him again, though more carefully.  

John needed this to end quickly and realised he would have to allow the alpha in closer than he liked.  White was holding his broken arm close to his body now and John was fairly confident he’d at least cracked some of the alpha’s ribs, as well.  The man looked terrifying with one side of his head glistening with blood from the head wound, rotten teeth bared and his eyes nearly bulging out of his head with fury.  

Finally, White manoeuvred John into a corner and got a grip on the doctor’s arm before he could get away.  The big man pulled at John’s arm and tore the coat sleeve nearly off but it also wrenched John’s right arm painfully. The omega struck at White with the pipe and connected once again with the broken elbow.  The alpha screamed and let go of John’s sleeve as he clutched at the injured limb. 

As John dodged away, White grunted and struck out, actually hitting the doctor on the left side of his face. If he hadn’t been moving back, the blow would have broken his neck.  As it was, it felt like he’d been struck in the face with a sledgehammer.  The doctor fell to the concrete on his back and barely had the presence of mind to roll away.  

John got to his feet quickly but was seeing stars and had trouble staying upright.  The only good thing was that White seemed to be in a similar condition and was on his knees with his lungs working like a bellows as he glared his intense hatred at the omega.   
  
John shook his head to clear it and moved in to finish things with the pipe.   He got in too close before he realised White’s behaviour was a feint. The man was nowhere near as debilitated as he seemed and John had fallen for it.    

A hard blow to John's wrist sent the pipe flying out of reach and he felt bones break.  The alpha got a meaty hand on John and brought him down hard to the concrete, forcing the breath from his body.   John’s arms weren’t long enough to reach the alpha’s face or broken elbow and all he could do was flail uselessly as one of the man’s huge hands went around the omega’s already bruised throat and his fingers began to tighten.  The amount of strength White possessed could easily snap John’s neck quickly, but it seemed he wanted to kill John slowly.    
  
Dripping blood everywhere, White grinned sadistically down at him as he gradually put increasing pressure on John’s neck and throat with his good hand.  Pulse pounding in his ears, John tried to take a breath but all he could do was wheeze and claw frantically at the alpha’s hand.  His vision began to darken and tunnel in as White continued to squeeze.     
  
He had to do something before he lost consciousness. Belatedly, he remembered that he was not only an omega but a strong guide. He was so used to dealing with his battles physically that he’d forgotten he had other strengths that he could bring into play in a fight. He could use his guide empathy to stop or slow White’s attack. 

Damning himself for being a fucking idiot and nearly losing his life, John gathered every last bit of strength and threw his empathy at White.  He still didn’t understand exactly what he was doing but he could tell he was more focused than he’d ever been before despite being so weak.  He put everything he had left into the mental blast at White as his vision went black. 

It seemed like hours but it was actually seconds later that he opened his eyes to see only concrete.  He took in a whooping breath and it felt like both his throat and back were on fire.  But he was alive and apparently mostly fine.  He pushed himself up only to be painfully reminded that he had a broken wrist and maybe some cracked ribs.     
  
Suddenly remembering about White, he blinked away perspiration and blood from his eyes and frantically searched the area for the alpha.  He found him lying on his back literally at John’s feet.  The man’s eyes were wide open, blood was coming out of his nose, ears and mouth and it was obvious that he was very dead.   

Startled and frightened, John’s first instinct was to scoot away from the body and put some distance between them. He’d never really meant to kill White. He’d expected to incapacitate him in the physical fight and restrain him for the police, but to kill a man using his empathy felt very wrong. John was horrified and sickened by what he’d done.  He honestly hadn’t thought he had the strength left at the end there to do something like that. At best, he’d hoped to distract or incapacitate but not kill.  The man’s mind had been mush and seriously damaged already, though. Maybe being blasted, even by John’s weakened empathy, was just too much for him.   
  
Unfortunately, John didn’t have time to worry about it right now.  The man had intended to rape him and had actively been trying to kill him at the end. He’d confess to Elliot later and maybe find some absolution but he had to get his arse in gear and find Sherlock. Time was not on his side in this and he still needed to find a way into Justin’s lair undetected.   

Slowly getting to his feet, he checked himself over and determined his ribs weren’t actually cracked but badly bruised.  The side of his face was swelling painfully and he thought he might have a fractured cheekbone.  However, a couple of bones in his left wrist were definitely broken.  Consoling himself that it could have been much worse, he busied himself making a splint for his wrist with some pieces of wood and fabric torn from White’s shirt.    

At some point, the police were going to show up and would find White’s body.  John would head back down to the passageway and see if he could find Sherlock now.  He’d try to leave a trail of some kind that the police could follow.   

He searched the alpha’s body and found a small torch, a rather wicked knife and more cord, all of which he appropriated.  Quickly locating the pipe and gloves, John carefully bent over to pick them up.  His ribs flared in pain but he grimly ignored them.   He was somewhat worried about his bruised throat swelling and constricting his breathing but so far he felt no indication of that.   
   
The sense of urgency seemed to double, however. Sherlock was in trouble!  Without any more delay, John quickly made his way down to the brick passageway behind the furnace.  Once he ventured into the corridor, he had to watch where he was going because the bricks were slimy and wet. The torch was bright and John could see easily.  After the first few steps, he didn’t seem to be descending as much but heading straight out from the building.  
  
After about five metres he came to the end of the corridor. He stood at the edge and looked out into an enormous semi-circular construction made entirely of bricks with a floor that sloped gently to a trough in the centre.  Water filled the trough and flowed quickly in the direction of the river off to John’s right.  He roughly judged the whole thing was about six metres in diametre.  

Looking up, John could see sunlight coming through what seemed to be metal grates.  As his eyes adjusted, he realised he was just beneath the street level in an enormous section of sewer built during the Victorian times.  The passage he’d come down was an access way that had been constructed over a century ago, probably for maintenance and repair.    

The doctor had seen photos online of some of the sewer systems built after the Big Stink of 1858. He’d read about how even some tributaries of the Thames such as the River Tyburn had been diverted into the sewer system in the 1850’s. He must be in one of the larger sewers meant to handle rainwater overflow or possibly even a forgotten tributary.  

Sherlock was somewhere nearby but John had to get down to the sewer below so he could find the entrance to Justin’s lair.  John pointed the torch downward at the bottom of the sewer. Looking closer, he saw metal staples had been driven into the brick just below his feet, creating a kind of ladder to the bottom of the sewer. 

Putting away the torch and hiding the pipe in his sleeve again, John carefully climbed down the metal ladder, using his good hand.   The metal was new though very wet and he could feel the cold even through the glove.  As he reached the bottom, his foot slipped a bit in the mud and debris.  His eyes adjusted more in the dim light and he could see that there was a considerable amount of water running through the centre of the sewer, though the amount was tiny considering the high water marks he could see on the wall. 

The sewer was massive and he could tell they were very close to the Thames.  He could smell the distinctive odour the river gave off and it wasn’t particularly pleasant.  The water levels must be high since the rain. 

Overall, the smell in the sewer wasn’t too bad since this seemed to be more for rainwater runoff than actual sewage. Unidentifiable pieces of rubbish floated as he stood there wondering which direction to go.  
  
The other warehouse was off to his right in the direction of the river so he started that way.  The smell of the Thames got stronger but it wasn’t offensive.  As the sewer diverted away from the street, the light dimmed and John turned the torch on again.  The walls were wet and slimy and he had to walk carefully on the slanted brick so he wouldn’t end up in the water. 

Soon he saw another set of metal staples set into the wall leading up to another brick access way, though the brick here looked different to the Victorian bricks. Climbing up with one hand holding both the torch and pipe was interesting but finally he made it.  Once he was in the corridor, it was obvious this tunnel was of modern brick construction and it seemed that someone had cut through the original sewer wall to make the new passageway.  

Looking ahead, John could see light at the end of the corridor. White must have left the door open. Quickly and quietly the doctor made his way to the entrance and listened carefully but heard nothing.   He was afraid to use his empathy in case Justin was able to detect it so he made sure his shields were in place and strong before he entered the room.   
  
He was now in enemy territory. John automatically slipped into combat mode. It was important that he remain focused on his objective.  He forgot his various aches and pains and began to strategically analyse his environment as he went. No surveillance equipment was visible anywhere.  The room itself was large, cold, very raw and unfinished, though there was electricity and plenty of illumination.  The door he’d come through had obviously been recently cut out of the old brick, which made sense, seeing the corridor behind it was new, also. 

Except for the far wall which was constructed of unpainted sheetrock, the walls and floor were old brick and the ceiling consisted of huge dark wooden planks less than three metres above his head. The room seemed to serve no purpose and John moved out of it into a short hallway, also roughly constructed of sheetrock. The hallway had two doors. One door led to the right and the other was at the end of the hall.   

He tried the door to the right and as soon as he opened it, the smell hit him. It was White’s bedroom and the place the dead man had planned to take John to be raped.  Even though his stomach rebelled at the thought of going in, he made himself enter and search the place.  Just like the first room and hallway, the walls of the room were raw and unfinished and the furnishings very Spartan.  There was nothing of interest aside from a filthy bed and some clothes thrown into a corner.  He left the room with a shiver of disgust and closed the door. 

It was easy to get turned around in this place but he thought he was now somewhere beneath the older warehouse.  That would mean he needed to head north and east again to get to Sherlock’s location.  The only way to go at the moment was straight ahead into the next room, though.  There had to be more rooms down here that would eventually lead him to his bond mate.   
  
He stood at the door and listened intently. He really wanted use his empathy even though Justin might feel it but decided against it. Slipping inside, he looked around in awe.  
  
This room was a marked contrast to the others.  The space was very dimly lit and large, though the ceiling was low. All the walls were finely finished in a rich, dark, highly polished mahogany with brass accents. The floors were also wood that had been stained dark and varnished to match the rest of the room. Even the ceiling was treated the same. 

Each wall was actually a series of inset cabinets with glass doors which were illuminated on the inside so one could easily see what was being displayed.  The interior of the room was filled with large glass cases made of the same dark wood of the walls and also illuminated so the contents could be viewed easily.  The entire space was actually a very beautifully and attractively done exhibition gallery, worthy of a major museum and must have cost an absolute fortune to build. 

It took a moment for the doctor to register what was in the cases. When he realised what was being displayed, John’s hair stood on end and he had to put his hand over his mouth, close his eyes and breathe deeply for a moment so he wouldn’t be ill.  

The wall cases were filled with a variety of deformed foetuses and child's skeletons held up by metal stands, numerous grinning skulls on shelves as well as dissected organs and body parts in jars. All were well organised, labelled and displayed artistically, just as one might see in a medical museum. John didn’t want to know how or where Justin had obtained these things. 

The large cases in the centre of the room were the worst, though. Inside were showcased the nightmarish creations of Michael Justin’s insanity.  Justin had plastinated the dissected bodies of his murder victims and reassembled them to replicate the bizarre and twisted drawings that John had seen on the walls of the killer’s flat.  

There were two figures in each case, of all ages, sexes, shapes and sizes. The only common denominator was that they had once been identical twins.  The armatures holding them in place were cleverly hidden. Each had been positioned and posed carefully and artistically within the cabinets. It was impossible to see where one body began and another ended.  The plastination process had allowed the killer to literally intertwine and blend the identical twins so that they were once again nearly one person as they had been just as the embryo split.  It was a perverse and hideous sight and one that would no doubt become a part of John’s nightmares in months and years to come. 

Some of what Justin had done to the dead twins was obscene and John had to look away.   What he was seeing was incomprehensible, though the doctor knew based on the information they had unearthed that this was what the killer had been doing.  But actually seeing it was another matter and it made him sick down to his soul. 

He did look closer and saw that the technique Justin used was faulty. The killer had done a poor job of preparing his specimens and it didn’t appear that he’d allowed the figures to cure properly because John could see some degradation in the tissues. Overall, compared to the plastination John had seen prepared by professionals, these were very poorly done. Regardless, the entire thing was a hideous mockery of art and represented only self absorbed, insane obsession. 

There were a total of eight cases and only one was empty.  John guessed the Ricky and Trey were meant to go in that one eventually and he was incredibly glad that he’d got them out and that White was dead.  Now it was time to find Sherlock. 

The door he had come through was cleverly hidden by the excellent quality of the carpentry but he knew how to look for Justin’s deviously concealed entrances now.  He made his way around the room, searching carefully at any wide gaps between the cabinets.  Involuntarily, his eye caught on one of the exhibits and he looked closer. 

Inside a large jar were the preserved remains of a parasitic twin that had clearly been surgically excised from its host.  It was rather small, looked like a nearly complete foetus but it had no head.  The label beneath the bizarre object was revealing.  It read,  ** _‘Parasitic Twin: removed surgically from Michael A. Justin, age eleven, July 1992.’_**    John backed away, appalled and revolted.  It explained a few things but certainly not everything. Other people had parasitic twins but they didn’t become serial killers. 

John continued his search, sick at heart from what he’d just learnt about Justin.  Putting it out of his mind, he found another door. Before he opened it, he checked the entire room to make sure there were no others. It was the only other one and it opened in the direction John wanted to go.  The doctor was delighted to leave that gallery of horrors and nightmares. 

Returning to the door he’d found, he pushed the small lever to pop it open. Like all the other mechanisms Justin had built, it opened soundlessly and John eased through it.   
  
The entrance revealed another huge room that easily encompassed the area of the two warehouses above.  The space must have been the remains of an older, larger warehouse that had fallen into disuse, been damaged or burned.  Some of the supporting columns looked scorched and so did many of the thick beams of the ceilings, but they were very much intact and looked stable despite the charring.   

Leaving the door slightly open behind him, John quietly ghosted to the cover of a wide support pillar and looked around for other exits and entrances. Off to his left, he could see a large brick lined access way that had stairs leading steeply up, which probably went into the older warehouse. He was sure there was a cleverly hidden door associated with it, somewhere topside.  There was also a door far across the room to his right, but it and the wall it was part of were new construction.  Maybe it was Justin’s bedroom or study.  If so, it might be where he was keeping Sherlock.  
  
He finally examined the rest of the space.  The area was unevenly illuminated. It was relatively dark where he was while most of the lighting was concentrated at the far end of the room where it looked as if a laboratory was set up. Many fluorescent lighting fixtures had been attached to the ceiling with thin chains.   There were large metal coffin shaped tanks with lids placed at regular intervals and what looked to be a couple of dissecting tables. There were smaller tables on castors that were set up with various surgical and dissection tools.  

Large barrels of what were likely chemicals were stacked neatly along the sides of the walls and there was some kind of contraption attached to the wall that had tubes leading from one of the metal tanks to it.  An area to one side of the room had a large space that was draped with plastic where ropes and chains hung from the ceiling.  Having read up on plastination, John recognised all the equipment. This was where Justin created those monstrosities in the other room. 

He had no idea where Justin was but he didn’t seem to be in the laboratory area or anywhere in the room.  The sense of urgency was beating constantly at him.  Something was telling him that Sherlock was in great danger.  John crossed the large space to the door in the far wall. As far as he could tell, the room behind the door was located directly under the warehouse where John had seen the bond disappear into the floor, so Sherlock had to be there.  Justin might be there, too, so he made sure to have the pipe ready in his right hand. 

What he was doing was totally daft and he knew it but couldn’t help himself.   He should wait for the police but, as his spirit guide had told him, this battle with Justin was his fight alone.  Justin was the antithesis of everything John aspired to be as a guide and human being.  While John, ruthless as he could be, was basically a healer who always tried to do the right thing, Justin was a killer who chose deliberately to do wicked things purely for the sake of being evil.  

Taking a deep breath, heart in his throat, adrenalin pumping, John made sure his shields were as strong as he could make them and opened the door. It was indeed a bedroom and Sherlock was lying on the bed, bound and gagged.  John could tell his bond mate was now alert and no longer confused.  He was also trying desperately to convey a warning to John.  But it was too late.  Justin was behind the door and aiming a tranquilliser gun directly at him. 

Moving purely on instinct, John dove to the ground and aimed a blow at Justin’s leg with the pipe as he fell, but missed when it slipped from his hand. He heard the sound of the darts flying over his head and one caught his left sleeve. Thankfully the thick coat, jumper and two layers of shirts kept the dart from penetrating far enough to inject the drug.  

Justin stopped shooting when he realised John’s clothing was too thick for the darts to penetrate, dropped the gun and instead kicked hard at the doctor, who was still on the ground.  Justin aimed for John's stomach so the doctor quickly crossed both wrists across his abdomen and blocked the blow successfully. However, Justin powerful kick hit John’s broken wrist and the omega nearly collapsed in white hot agony as he felt the bones grind together at the strength of the blow.  John rolled away and retreated with Justin in hot pursuit. 

The killer seized John by his left arm, sensing weakness. He pulled and twisted, trying to get John into a hammer lock.  The doctor pulled out of it but strained his shoulder. In return, John tried to get Justin in a half nelson but the stress on his broken wrist was too much and it failed.  The killer swung an elbow back that almost connected to John’s damaged face, but he had seen it coming and jerked back in time.    
  
Quickly, John got to his feet and moved to deliver a roundhouse kick to Justin’s head, but the man moved fast and avoided it.  John was off balance long enough for Justin to get to the tranquilliser gun. To John’s horror, Justin aimed at his legs and shot.  Before he could evade him, a dart had penetrated his thin trousers.  He quickly plucked it out of his thigh which prevented the full dose from injecting, but his vision began to waver anyway.  He could hear Sherlock screaming through his gag and the last thing John saw before all went dark was Justin’s evil face grinning in triumph.

 

 

 

 

________________________________________________________

John woke slowly, his body aching and his mind confused.  Where was he? His wrist was especially painful and the agony seemed to throb with each beat of his heart.  Blinking stupidly against the bright fluorescent lights, he laboriously moved his head to look, only to see his grotesquely swollen wrist was buckled tightly to the side of a metal dissecting table. His other wrist was also strapped down but it wasn’t swollen. Why was his wrist swollen? Oh, that’s right. He’d broken it.

Suddenly everything came back to him and he gasped.  He’d been tranquillised and now he was lying on a dissecting table in Justin’s laboratory. His coat was gone but he was still dressed otherwise. His chest, hips, thighs and lower legs were strapped down tight to the table.  He could only move his head at this point. 

How much time had passed?  It couldn’t have been much more than fifteen minutes. He’d not got all the dosage from the dart and that kind of tranquilliser was used by the Towers and kept a normal adult male down for no more than thirty minutes. 

Frantically, he searched for Sherlock.  His alpha was unconscious on another dissecting table nearby and his wrists had been handcuffed to it but not strapped.  Justin must have tranquillised him as well before moving him out to the main room. John squinted closely at the cuffs on Sherlock’s wrists. They were nothing special and he knew he could open them but he’d not tried it from this distance.  The alpha’s chest, thighs and ankles were strapped down but nothing else was restrained. 

Why was John restrained so tightly?  He unfortunately had some ideas but instead of thinking about them he craned his neck and looked around. He could see slightly behind him to his left and right a couple of the metal tanks that were used for the plastination process.  John could smell the acetone pretty clearly and suspected one of the tanks was not sealed properly. The fact he could smell the chemical was indicative of sloppy lab practises which was something John might be able to take advantage of at some point. 

He could see a stopcock on the end of the tank where the acetone could be drained away. The other tank was exactly the same but John suspected it had silicone rubber inside it instead of acetone. There were tubes and a vacuum pump attached to it. The tubes led to a special device hung on the wall that used dry ice for capturing the extracted acetone while the vacuum pump forcibly impregnated the cells with silicone rubber.   
  
Lifting his head up as far as he could, John saw one of the smaller tables had been placed beside him between his table and Sherlock’s.  On the table was arrayed a variety of surgical instruments.  Most of them were scalpels of various sizes.  He could also see retractors and clamps.  It seemed that Justin was planning to perform surgery.  John knew he was going to be the victim. He was afraid that Justin was going to try to take his babies. 

An incredible wave of rage, fear and protectiveness swept over him and his heartrate doubled.  He wasn’t going to allow Justin to do anything of the kind.  There had to be a way out of this.  Forcing himself to calm down, he looked back over at his unconscious alpha.  Taking deep, slow breaths, he focused on one of the cuffs holding Sherlock to the table. He envisioned the lock going through the motions it needed to unlock and he immediately heard a tiny click.  He couldn’t tell if it had come loose or not but he turned his focus to the other and did the same.  Again, he heard the click of the handcuff lock releasing.  However, until Sherlock woke, he wouldn’t be able to escape.   
  
He started calling out to Sherlock with his voice and his empathy to see if he could awaken him.  But the detective was too far under the drug’s influence. Some sentinels had strange reactions to certain drugs and this might be one that affected Sherlock more strongly. The drug used for tranquilliser darts was safe for the majority of sentinels, guides and non-sensitive people. It was even very safe for pregnant people, if used in small doses.   

John lay back and tried to relax.  Could he undo the buckles?  He hadn’t tried anything like that before.  He focused on the leather strap and envisioned it moving.  There was a feeling of tightening around his wrist as it tried to pull it loose and agony shot up his arm, making him lose his concentration. His wrist was terribly swollen and his fingers were turning blue.  If circulation was cut off for too long, he could lose his fingers. But that wasn’t his main concern at the moment.  He should have tried his right wrist first.  He called for Sherlock again as he began to focus on the other restraint but his concentration was broken by Justin's arrival.

“Yelling at him is not going to do you any good so you might as well shut up.”  Justin sauntered out of his room. He’d dressed himself in a surgical gown and was smirking as he approached the two tables.  John got a good whiff of him as he walked by the tables.  The man was definitely an omega now and approaching his heat. Apparently Justin had been on suppressors when they’d first encountered one another.  
  
He looked down at the unconscious sentinel with a strange, fond smile on his face. “I was watching him these last few days and knew that Sherlock was going to come down here this afternoon and chances were good that he’d finally discover how to find this place, unlike the stupid police.  So I created a diversion to make sure he had to come alone. That way I could lure you here, too and I could kill two birds with one stone, as they say. Though I didn’t really expect you so soon.  I thought it would be a few days before you missed him. 

“It was ridiculously easy to plant that fake bomb in the Tube and call in the terrorist threat. No one remembered seeing me there, of course. I saw to that.  It certainly got the attention of every idiot on the force. Apparently it’s standard procedure to funnel all available resources to the site of the bomb threat.” 

He circled the table, touching and straightening Sherlock’s suit absently, like the unconscious man was a doll or favourite toy.  “Did you know that sentinels are really easy to zone or divert if you’re a guide? You just have to dangle something shiny and sparkly in front of them and poof! They’re in another place altogether.  They’re all so easy to manipulate and hurt. So fragile, really. Too loud a sound, too strong a smell, a strange, painful texture and they’re gone. I don’t know why more guides don’t force them to do what they want or why they let sentinels treat them like dirt.  The guide really has all the power.   Forcing sentinels is almost easier than forcing normal people.  

“But forcing normal people is easy, too.  I can walk into any shop or bank and just ask for money or take what I want and they give it to me if I push them. They don’t argue and they don’t even remember.  I’ve done it lots of times.  

“A normal person’s brain gets soft and stupid, though, if you do it too much. The same thing happens to part sentinels like Huw.  But a true sentinel’s mind doesn’t do that when you force them. I don’t suppose you understand anything about that, though. I don’t plan to force you, you know. I mean to have you feel everything I do to you.” 

John stayed silent, realising that all the questions were mostly rhetorical anyway. He watched angrily as the killer started stroking Sherlock’s hair. “Now this one, however.  He’s nothing like any other sentinel or part sentinel I’ve ever been around.  He’s strong. I’ve had my eye on him for a long, long time. I wasn’t able to manipulate him easily or make him zone even once.  All I could do was put a barrier around him but he broke out of it after a few hours, somehow.”  

The killer’s face screwed up in confusion. “I don’t know how he did it, but he did. No one else has ever done that before. But I’ll figure out a way to force him like I forced all the others. Did you know, I almost succeeded just now? But then you arrived.  Very poor timing on your part.  No matter. It’s just a matter of time and I'll be able to force him to do what I want.”  He smiled and continued to pet the detective. Then he glared at John and his face turned ugly. The doctor couldn’t help the shiver that went down his spine. 

“He was to be mine but you took him and he put babies in you. You’re nothing! You’re just a plain omega but you took this special alpha sentinel for your own without permission! You don’t deserve him and so I’m going to take him away from you. 

“I’m going to cut you open and take out your babies while you watch and I’ll make him watch, too.  See this jar full of alcohol? I’ll put your babies in here and then stick them in one of my cabinets with all the other deformed creatures. And once you’re dead, I’ll take away all his memories of you, bond with him and keep him for myself.  I’ll be the one to have his babies, not you.” 

Intellectually, John had known this was a possibility but actually hearing it confirmed from the killer’s lips made the doctor want to howl in fear and outrage.  Helpless, all he could do was try to remain calm and prepare himself for whatever might happen and hope that Sherlock woke soon.  
  
Justin moved away from the detective and picked up one of the smaller scalpels.  John knew that type and size of blade was used for the initial incision in most surgeries.  Justin seemed to be fascinated by the glitter of it for a moment and then put it down. 

“I imagine you’re wondering how I managed to do all this.  It took a lot of money and time, you know. Once I stumbled upon this place, I had very clever and talented craftsmen from all over Eastern Europe and Russia to come here and work. I designed all of this and they got me hooked into the main electrical, gas and sewer without any fuss and no one the wiser. Never a utility bill and the city has no idea I even exist. It’s perfect!”   

He spun around to look down at John.  “By the way, did you like my artwork?  I know you came in through the gallery when you arrived from Huw’s bedroom. It’s my pride and joy and I hope you enjoyed your sneak preview. Aside from Huw, everyone else who has ever seen that room is now dead and you will be, too. Very soon.”  
  
John broke in on the horrible man’s monologue.  “No, I didn’t care for that crap you call your artwork. It’s hideous and a mockery to compare it to real plastination.”  

Justin’s eyebrows rose in surprise at John’s words and then his eyes narrowed in anger as the doctor continued.  “Your process is flawed and your craftsmanship is shite.  You did a rotten job with your dissection. It’s no surprise you flunked out of med school if that represents the quality of your work.  And you didn’t allow all the water and fat to be removed during the dehydration process either, so the forms look clotted and rough.  Also, none of the figures have been completely cured, so the tissues of your ‘art’ are decaying in the cases as we speak. Go look if you think I’m lying.”  

Justin’s face was red and he balled his fists in rage, ready to strike John.   But then he calmed himself, stepped back and took a deep breath. 

“So, everyone’s a critic. Too bad but I really don’t care what you think.” He glared down at John, evidently still angry at the doctor’s derision of his efforts. 

“Changing the subject, I’m now starting to wonder what's happened to Huw.  He was supposed to bring me those boys so I could slaughter them in front of you. But he was so eager to spend the rest of the afternoon raping you he must have forgotten again. I suppose you killed him after he took you to his room. No great loss, really. His mind was nearly gone and I would have got rid of him myself, anyway.  So thank you for saving me the trouble. I do see he left you in a bit of a mess though, so well done, Huw! 

“In any event, you found your way here a bit earlier than I’d expected and interrupted me while I was working with dear Sherlock, but that’s okay. I can always get back to that at a later time. 

“I’m guessing we can get started as soon as sleeping beauty here wakes up.  It’s been nearly thirty minutes so it shouldn’t be too much longer. I need to get something, and then I’ll be right back.”  
  
Justin left to go over to a cabinet across the room.  The doctor saw that Sherlock was showing signs of waking.  John quickly whispered, “Sherlock, your cuffs are loose.  I undid them so you can get up.  Please, wake up and put this insane bastard down!” John hoped desperately that Sherlock could hear him even if he wasn’t quite aware yet.  
  
Justin called across the room. “No point in talking to him yet, John. It’ll be a few minutes yet before he’s completely awake.”  The killer walked over with a syringe in his hand and the doctor eyed him nervously. 

“What’s that? What are you going to do?”  
  
Justin smile was hideous. “Are you sure you want to know, John?  All right, then. This is suxamethonium chloride, more commonly known as succinylcholine. Do you know what it’s used for?” 

John’s eyes widened in horror. He shook his head in denial but knew it was useless. He answered anyway, trying to buy time.  “It… it’s a fast acting muscle relaxer and paralytic used in surgery to aid in intubation.”  
  
Justin raised his eyebrows and politely clapped his hands together. ”Well done! The best thing about this drug is that when I give it to you, you won’t be able to move a muscle. You won’t even be able to breathe at the end, but you can still feel and experience everything I do to you. You can watch me cut the foetuses out of your womb and you won’t even be able to twitch when I put them in the jar. Then you’ll either bleed to death or suffocate from your paralysed respiratory system.  Such exquisite torture!  Though the drug does act fast and might wear off before you lose consciousness from lack of oxygen, but then I get to watch you bleed to death regardless. So it’s a win-win for me.”  

Gasping in shock and near panic, John couldn’t believe this was happening.  Things were not supposed to go this way. He and Sherlock were meant to defeat this mad bastard and then get on with their lives. Celebrate their bonding ceremony, have lots of children, solve cases, then retire and grow old together and spoil their grandchildren. Sherlock had even talked about raising bees, for god’s sake!  He wasn’t meant to die in such a horrible place.  He couldn’t let it happen but until Sherlock was awake, he was helpless.  

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye the doctor saw movement. It wasn’t Sherlock but it was John’s spirit guide! John saw it clearly but Justin didn’t seem to be aware of it for all it was right in front of him.  As John stared, the image faded away. 

Suddenly John knew why she’d appeared to him. She was reminding him that he wasn’t helpless at all. Having denied and hid what he was for so very long, John kept forgetting who and what he truly was.  Once he accepted it fully, he would never be unarmed. 

Chalking it up to the effects of the tranquilliser and shock at being captured, John had once again forgotten he was a guide with guide powers to equal or surpass Justin’s own.  However, the other guide didn’t seem to know that and thought John was just a plain omega. How the man could have missed that was anyone’s guess. But he’d underestimated John from the beginning and the doctor was going to give him cause to regret it. 

Sherlock was making more progress toward waking and John readied himself.  Justin was watching the sentinel and stroking his hair once again.  The doctor heard Sherlock mumble something that sounded like John’s name and watched as Justin’s expression turned hateful.  The killer stopped petting Sherlock, grabbed his dark curls and shook the alpha’s head. It looked painful and Sherlock’s face screwed up in protest.  Justin slapped his face a few times but it did nothing to awaken the slumbering detective. He seemed to go under even deeper.  
  
Justin huffed out a breath in frustration. “Oh well. I suppose we should just get started without him, then.”  With that he picked up the syringe again, stabbed John in the arm and began to inject the drug. John shouted and jerked away despite being restrained. Miraculously the syringe slipped out of Justin’s grip and fell to the floor. Only about half the amount in the syringe got into John’s body but it was more than enough.  Intramuscular injection took longer to act than intravenous but that particular drug still worked damn fast.  

Justin smirked and hummed as he watched the drug begin to work on John, who was too shocked at events to even think straight.  When the killer picked up the small scalpel and then pulled up John’s jumper and shirts, John’s empathy exploded with all his considerable strength at the killer. He forced it with all his might at Justin, who just blinked and frowned, then looked around curiously as if all he’d felt was a soft breeze. 

John couldn’t believe it. What had killed White instantaneously seemed to bounce right off the other guide. His natural shields must be incredible or he was just totally insensitive to another guide's empathy. That seemed to be the most likely solution, considering that he hadn’t been able to see John’s spirit animal even though she appeared right in front of him.   

What could John do now that his empathy wouldn’t work on Justin?  John sucked in a deep breath as he felt the medication begin to work, progressively paralysing his muscles. 

John watched in astonishment and horror as Justin pushed down the doctor's trousers and casually made an incision from John’s belly button to just above where his pubic hair started. Justin went back over the incision and cut deeper the second time.     "I know I should do this the proper way with a transverse incision, but I think we'll go with the classical at first.  I don't have to be neat and this is easier."  
  
It took a few moments for the sharp, throbbing pain to slam into the doctor and by that time Justin had cut a shallow line perpendicular to the vertical incision, creating a cross shape on John’s abdomen.  The killer then turned to the table and picked up a larger scalpel designed to actually cut through muscle. 

John could feel blood welling out of the incisions and it began to drip down his sides and collect under his hips.  He was totally paralysed and he couldn’t even twitch as Justin turned back toward him with the larger knife.  Disoriented, panicked and in terrible pain, John threw his empathy out and pushed hard at anything he could affect. 

The small table with the instruments was on castors and it flew away from the side of the table and overturned with a huge crash, scattering the steel instruments all over the floor. 

John watched Justin stand there stunned and in disbelief. The killer turned to look at John, who was struggling just to breathe and discounted him immediately.  He next glanced over at Sherlock, who still seemed to be deeply under the tranquilliser drug.  Clearly not sure what was going on, Justin shrugged, disregarded what had happened and went to pick up the table and the strewn instruments so he could continue.  

John’s eyelids were now paralysed half open and he was barely able to breathe at all, but he stared upward and pushed his empathy at the light fixtures that were hanging from chains.  They began to sway back and forth and he pushed harder until they began to move alarmingly fast and in different directions.  Some of the fixtures crashed together, breaking the fluorescent tubes and glass shards came raining down around them.  

John then focused on the stopcocks of the two metal tanks behind him and imagined them turning and opening.  He knew he was successful when he began to smell acetone fumes strongly.  It must be pouring all over the floor in a deluge along with the silicone rubber.     
  
Justin was cowering and trying to protect his head from the glass raining down on him and crying out in shock and surprise.  “Is this an earthquake? What the fuck is going on?” 

John’s eyes were paralysed now but the doctor could still see the movement as Justin ran past him to turn off the stopcocks. He would have laughed if he could have done when he heard Justin slip in the silicone rubber and crash into one of the tanks. There was a huge clatter and the smell of acetone fumes increased. John wondered if Justin had upset the tank or just knocked off the lid.  
  
John could no longer breathe except in small sips as his body tried to fight against the paralysis and his vision was beginning to fade out. The last thing he tried with his empathy was to lift a couple of scalpels off the floor.  He couldn’t move his eyes but through his lashes, could see the sharp blades rise and had the satisfaction of hearing Justin scream in terror at the sight.   

The doctor used the last of his strength and empathy to throw the scalpels at the killer but knew he’d missed when he heard them clatter to the ground.  It sounded as if Justin had slipped again in the mess on the floor trying to avoid them, though.  It was a good try and as everything began to tunnel down to spots of grey and black, he resigned himself to having done his best.   
  
Then somehow Sherlock was up and off his table. John’s head was pounding in agony from lack of air. His vision was full of black spots and everything was getting increasingly darker, but he could barely see the movement of his alpha striking hard at the killer.  John was satisfied that there would finally be justice for all those poor murdered and mutilated people.   
  
Just as he was ready to give up, the drug began to clear from his system as quickly as it had paralysed him.  Suddenly, his lungs were working and he could breathe again. His chest expanded involuntarily, taking in a huge gulp of air.  His vision quickly returned as did his ability to move. 

Turning his head, he saw Sherlock standing unsteadily beside the table he’d been strapped to and looking down at an unconscious Justin.  The alpha then staggered over to John, crunching through broken glass with a look of absolute horror on his face.

“John! What did he do to you? Are you all right?”   The detective began to attempt to unbuckle the doctor from the table. 

John was still trying to catch his breath and couldn’t answer right away.  Eventually he was able to croak, “I’m fine, luv.  He didn’t cut too deeply. Are you okay?” 

“I’m still groggy, but otherwise unhurt.”  The deep voice quavered. “John, you’ve lost a lot of blood and you’re still bleeding.  Wait just a minute.”  

The alpha disappeared into Justin’s bedroom and returned quickly with a handful of neatly folded white vests.  Without hesitation, he pressed the garments gently but firmly against John’s belly, then pulled his trousers back up and tucked the shirts into the waist band over the makeshift bandage. “This will help put pressure on the wounds.  We need to find a way out of here and call the police. You need to get to hospital.”  
  
The sentinel looked down at John’s face in wonder and awe.  “Thank god you found me when you did, John.  Justin was using his empathy on me for what seemed like hours and trying to take my memories. I fought him as long as I could but I didn’t have the strength to resist him for much longer. If you hadn’t come, I’d be his mindless puppet by now.” The sentinel shook his head. “I don’t know how you did it but I’m very grateful to you.” 

John smiled wearily at his alpha.  “I had help from my spirit guide.  She gave me the information I needed to find you and urged me to get here as fast as possible.  And don’t think you and I will not be having words later about you going off on your own and allowing yourself to be captured by this berk.”  
  
Sherlock had the good grace to hang his head and look contrite.  “Yes, dear.”  

The doctor snorted an inelegant laugh at that even though it jarred his ribs and hurt his face to smile so much. 

Sherlock’s expression sobered.  “I found the boys, John. We need to go get them as soon as we can.  Somehow, Justin knew I was coming and deliberately put them in the basement of the meth warehouse to lure me inside so they could trap me. I found the way into the basement but there was something in there that affected my senses so that I became disoriented. I never got the chance to even call for help. 

“I couldn’t regain control and that’s when Justin and White came out of hiding and tranquillised me.” Sherlock looked embarrassed to admit what had happened, but he then continued. “Justin has developed some kind of building material that can hide or mute his presence from a sentinel.  He and White were hiding in another room near that basement and I didn’t hear a thing from them.  I could hear the boys clearly, though.  I hope they’re all right. It was very cold in there.” 

“I wouldn’t worry about them, luv.  I discovered Ricky and Trey and got them out. I told them to send the police and they should be swarming  topside by now.  I’ll tell you more about it later.”  
   
The smell of acetone was getting stronger and John fought to sit up.  “What are you doing…? John?” Sherlock tried to press the omega down but he resisted.  
  
”Do you have your sense of smell turned down right now?” Sherlock nodded.  “Well, the smell of acetone fumes is strong and I’m feeling light headed. Do you know a way out of here?”  John was hoping there was a quicker and easier way to get out besides crawling up and down wet, slippery metal staples into and out of a sewer.   

“No, I was unconscious when Justin had White bring me down here. I see a stairway over there. We can try that way. Acetone is incredibly volatile and just a spark can set it off.     I’ll restrain Justin and we can get ....”  

Sherlock only got that far when he was tackled and brought down to the ground by the killer.  The doctor heard glass crunch and his alpha’s head hit the floor hard.   Neither sentinel nor guide had noticed that the killer had regained consciousness until he attacked Sherlock. 

John yelled a warning as the killer brought up the knife that the doctor had taken off White. Before the detective could defend himself, Justin swung down with great force and speed.  

Sherlock twisted and the knife only buried itself in Sherlock’s right bicep instead of his heart.  The madman pulled it out and slashed it shallowly across Sherlock’s chest, then lifted the bloody thing again.  Sherlock raised his arms to defend himself, but his efforts were ineffectual. The detective seemed woozy and uncoordinated.    

Screaming hysterically, Justin went for the kill, meaning to stab Sherlock to death. He seemed to have forgotten all his plans to mate and bond with the detective in his insane fury to destroy.  

John leapt from the table, feeling tearing pain from his wounds but he ignored it.  Grabbing Justin’s knife wielding arm with his right hand and left arm, John twisted and with all his considerable strength, threw the other guide completely off Sherlock.   Justin lost his grip on the knife and slid back into the mess on the floor.  
  
John stood over his groggy and bleeding mate and couldn’t help but snarl his hate at the killer, who lay blinking up at him from the acetone and silicone rubber covered floor.  Justin slowly regained his feet and faced off against John. Their positions reminded the doctor of the confrontation between the two wolves in the spirit world.  

“Get out of my way, you useless omega. He’s mine to do with as I please and you can’t stop me.  Get on your knees, now!”  With that, Justin’s expression became pinched in concentration and he threw all his empathy at John.  

The doctor was aware of what Justin was doing and braced himself. But he was surprised that he felt nothing but a vague sense of pressure against his shields. They held with no effort on his part.  

Shocked and surprised that John remained unaffected, the killer took a step back, mouth and eyes wide. “What… why aren’t you obeying me?  What are you?”  

John laughed contemptuously. “I’m an omega guide, just like you. You can’t hurt me with your empathy, but I can hurt you with mine and I will do if you try anything else.”  

Justin stood there, uncertain but unwilling to believe what John was saying. It was clear to the doctor that the other guide wasn’t going to give up and it was beyond time to end this.  Sherlock was on his feet now and, though bleeding and a bit unsteady, was ready to fight again. 

John stood in front of Sherlock and fully prepared to defend his mate. “Give up while you still can. If you touch him again, I’ll kill you. You’ve already tried to kill him  and our babies and failed. I won’t give you another chance to try. Give up!” 

Justin’s lip curled in scorn and incredulity.  “You think you can defeat me? Well, you’re so wrong.” His face screwed up in concentration again and Sherlock gave a cry of anguish. John felt his mate’s pain as the sentinel fell to the floor, writhing in agony.   

Justin’s expression changed to triumph.  “See if you can stop me now, you cunt. I’ll kill him with my mind! If I can’t have him, you can’t either!” Justin turned his empathy back to Sherlock who fell again to the floor, moaning and thrashing.  
  
Horror-struck at what Justin was doing to Sherlock, immense rage and hatred filled John’s entire being and he directed it at Justin.  Not to blast him with his empathy, which he now knew was useless,  but to create fire.  The acetone and silicone rubber on the killer's clothes acted as an accelerant and John watched in grim satisfaction as the guide’s grimy white shirt began to smoulder and then went up in flames.  The killer didn’t notice at first and then he panicked when he felt the pain of the fire on his skin.   Floundering about, Justin tried to smother the flames but spread them further instead.  
  
John knew what was going to happen and despite the cuts on his belly, he bent and hauled a groggy Sherlock to his feet. Dragging his mate to the door of the gallery as fast as he could, John got it open and had just pushed Sherlock through when he heard a loud  _whoomp_   and then an explosion of intense heat that burnt his neck, hair and the fabric of his trousers and jumper.  

He glanced back for an instant before he closed the door to see Justin’s form moving and flailing, completely engulfed in the flames that had ignited the acetone vapours.  The fire was moving unbelievably fast and the heat was intense. It would only be a few moments before the wooden ceiling caught.   
  
Suddenly, Sherlock was behind him and beating out the flames in his clothing and hair.  He felt pain and smelled scorched hair and wool, but it barely registered.  

The alpha was frantic.“We have got to get out of here now! This place is going to go up like a tinderbox. Come on!”  John agreed and led Sherlock through the gallery. The doctor noticed that the detective tried not to react in horror at what he saw but his face was grim as they approached the open door to the hallway and ran as fast as possible for the exit. 

They were at the metal ladder in moments and both worked their way down carefully to the floor of the sewer. The tunnel was freezing and black as pitch. The only light John could see was what escaped from the corridor above them.  Night had fallen outside and there was no more sunlight further down to help illuminate their way.  However, Sherlock was a sentinel and could use his enhanced sense of sight to show them the way out. 

Sherlock removed his jacket with only a slight wince of pain at the stab wound in his arm and wrapped it around John.  “We have to move fast! Justin had barrels of chemicals and silicone rubber stored there.  Once the door to the gallery burns through, oxygen will get sucked inside from this sewer into the main area and there will be an enormous backdraft that will probably cause a major explosion.  We have to get as far away from this access way as fast as possible!”  

The detective linked his good left arm with John’s uninjured right arm and they picked their way along the wet and slippery path as fast as John could go.  The doctor was completely blind but Sherlock’s steps were sure as they moved away from the fire.      
  
”The other passageway is down to the left and there’s another metal ladder to the other warehouse. Is that where you mean us to go?” John’s left shoulder lightly brushed the brick wall of the sewer as they hurried along.  
  
”No, that warehouse will be just as involved in the fire. I think we should go past that entrance and further away from the river to see if we can find an exit to the street level.  The air flow goes toward the river. Once the warehouses blow, smoke and debris will be sucked into the sewer and out toward the river and we could die of smoke inhalation if we stay in this area. 

“I can see the entrance to the other warehouse, now.  Was there a light of any kind in the corridor, John?”  
  
Looking up, John could see a definite, flickering red glow from just ahead of them, outlining the passageway he’d come down just a short time before.  “No, Sherlock.  There were dim electrical lights in that part of the basement, but nothing that colour.”  
  
At that moment, John heard Sherlock gasp and the detective pulled him across the water and unceremoniously pushed John onto his face in the muck between the opposite walls and floor. He then threw himself down on top of the omega. “GET DOWN!” 

John obeyed instantly and covered his head with his arms as best he could.  He heard a loud hiss and felt a strong gust of air blow past him toward the river. Then the ground and walls trembled and shook as an immense explosion rocked the sewer. John hoped that his sentinel had turned down his hearing as they were literally picked up and tossed into the air, landing partly in the freezing water and muck.  

Deafened by the incredible noise and blinking in shock, John glanced briefly up to see the passageway from the warehouse ahead literally shooting fire, smoke and debris out of it as if it was the bore of a cannon. John watched in horrified fascination as the flames smashed into the ceiling and opposite wall of the sewer tunnel with incredible force.  

The blaze moved out from the mouth of the passageway like tentacles and seemed to be searching blindly for him with its tendrils. John’s eyes widened and his mouth gaped in a visceral response at being in the presence of an incredibly huge, mindless force of nature that could kill him and turn him to nothing but ash in minutes.  

He felt the skin on his face tighten up and begin to burn. Realising he was being unbelievably stupid to attempt to watch, John immediately turned his face away and covered his head with his arms again. He could feel Sherlock’s warm weight covering his body as the detective pressed his face into the side of John’s neck and covered both their heads with his hands and arms. 

They were far enough away so that they were not pelted too much by bits of shattered brick and melted wrought iron, but the heat was so intense that John felt the skin of his hands where they covered his head start to scorch and burn.  Before the pain got unbearable, the flames sucked back inside the passageway as if they’d never been. 

“Get up, get up, now John! We need to move before smoke begins to pour out of that corridor!’  John could barely hear Sherlock’s shout in his ear but he rose to his feet clutching his lacerated belly and stumbled forward into the pitch darkness again. He was wet, muddy and numb with cold. 

Dense smoke began to pour out of the passageway before they could get past it. John couldn’t see it and took in a lungful before Sherlock could get them through. John coughed and coughed but kept moving.   

Finally they were past the smoke. The air was as fresh as it ever got in a sewer and the ground seemed to be rising. John still couldn’t see a thing, was breathless and his ears felt as if they were stuffed full of cotton wool, but he trusted Sherlock to get them out.   

John glanced toward the ceiling to see a reflection of flashing blue lights of an emergency service vehicle on a street grate directly above their heads. He tightened his hold on his mate’s arm and pointed.  There was enough light that John could barely see his mate look upward.  As John's gaze followed Sherlock's, he could make out the flashing lights also reflecting off the top of a metal ladder near the grate.  

It took him a moment to realise Sherlock was no longer standing beside him but was scaling the ladder. The detective’s form blocked out all light but John could vaguely hear a grinding noise and then Sherlock was back beside him.  

The detective took John’s good hand and put it on a rung of the ladder that John could not see.  “Climb up, John. I’ll be right behind you.”  John started up. It was difficult with only one hand to use but he could wrap his left forearm around the outside of the ladder to help balance. Sherlock was literally right behind him, as well, helping to steady him.

Carefully, the doctor crawled out of the hole in the street and staggered to his feet in time to reach out for Sherlock and help him out of the sewer.  John was in his alpha's arms in a moment, seeking comfort.  He could smell fear-sweat, blood and sewer muck, but underneath was all Sherlock and John basked in the scent.  

After a few moments, Sherlock turned them so they could look toward the warehouses.  They were about two streets down from where the warehouses had once been and what they saw was literally scene out of hell. Even the noise of the burning buildings sounded like shrieks of the damned.   

Both warehouses were engulfed in flames that shot easily four storeys into the air.  Sparks flew and projectiles shot skyward like fireworks as the chemicals inside the structures exploded and parts of the buildings began to collapse.  The fire was so bright that John had to squint to even look at it and he could feel the intense heat of it even two streets away.  Michael Justin and his murder victims were all inside. It would be days before anyone would be able to even get near it to search for bodies and then there would be very little left. 

Fire brigades were not even attempting to put out the conflagration but had cordoned off the area and were trying to prevent the other structures from catching fire also.  It seemed that John and Sherlock were inside the cordoned area and the doctor could faintly hear shouting. 

Sherlock coughed and then spoke, though John could barely hear him. “That was some trick.  Making fire with your empathy, I mean. I don’t remember you being able to do that before.” 

Between being nearly strangled to death by White and the smoke he’d inhaled, John’s throat was raw and his voice barely a croak, but Sherlock understood him. “Yeah, it’s new.  I’ll tell you about it later.”    

John grinned and looked up at Sherlock who returned his smile.  The detective was a mess. His curls were sticking every which way and strands were matted to his head with mud. His face was covered with black soot, especially around his nose and mouth.  His formerly white shirt was in ribbons and coated with sewer muck and blood from the knife wounds. But he was the most beautiful thing John had ever seen. They were safe and alive. Justin and White had been defeated and there would be no more murders.  That’s all that mattered. 

They turned away from the inferno to see a handful of police running toward them. One was yelling into his radio but John couldn’t understand what he said.  His hearing seemed to be returning somewhat but everything was still muffled.    
  
John let Sherlock do the talking to the police as they were led away from the fire. The cops looked horrified at their condition, especially John’s. He’d forgotten what a sight he must be with a grotesquely bruised and swollen left cheek and his jumper and trousers soaked in blood and muck.  His face was probably covered in soot and mud, too.  Frankly, he didn’t care. Exhausted, all he wanted to do was lie down and rest.  His and Sherlock’s wounds really needed tending soon to prevent infection. Also, he fully expected he would need surgery to correct the shattered bones of his wrist.  But more than anything, he wanted to make sure his babies were okay.  

It was too early to think about it, but he knew he’d have to return to the Tower soon.  Moira was going to be seriously cheesed off at him but at this point he didn't much care.  John was actually looking forward to being able to talk to Elliot about Justin. The fact that the killer had been an omega guide just like John had been a major shock.  He wanted to know more about that and why they couldn't affect each other with their empathy.  Was it because they were so similar?  John had questions that needed to be answered and if Tom didn’t know, maybe there was something in the Archives that could tell him.  

The horrible thing was that they had both been very similar.  John Watson and Michael Justin were the rarest of the rare.  Somewhere, somehow Justin’s life experiences caused him to make choices that set him on the path of murder and destruction.  John followed a different road that taught him compassion and healing but also involved death and war.

Their choices in life were what made them so different to each other.  It was Justin’s willingness to hurt others and take delight in it that had cost him everything.  John had simply been the instrument to end the insanity permanently and ensure Justin's destruction.   He had no choice but to live with it for now. 

 

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter chapter this time. Thanks so much to everyone who commented and left kudos. You're the greatest!

Turning their backs on the fiercely burning warehouses, John and Sherlock were gently escorted by the police toward the ambulances that had been called to the fire as a preventative measure.  The adrenalin rush of the last few hours was fading fast and so was John.  His numerous injuries were making themselves felt and he was thankful for Sherlock’s supporting arm around his waist.  

Someone had given them both blankets and John clutched at his gratefully. It was freezing outside, his breath fogged in front of his face and he was shivering uncontrollably.  Sherlock’s jacket just wasn’t cutting it and he couldn’t imagine how Sherlock was coping with the cold, even with the blanket.  Walking was becoming increasingly problematic but he was determined to stay on his feet until he got where he was going. There was no way he was going to allow anyone to carry him. 

As they slowly approached the ambulances, John’s attention was drawn to a familiar form sitting in the dark on the kerb nearby.  The flashing blue lights made it difficult to tell for certain, but John thought he recognised Lestrade. The man looked distraught and was rocking back and forth slightly with his head in his hands.  

Sherlock glanced down at John and they both nodded to each other, knowing exactly what the other was thinking. Much to the consternation of their escort, John stopped his progress to the ambulances and instead watched while Sherlock walked over to the DI. Sherlock sat beside Greg, but Lestrade didn’t even look up until the detective nudged him.   
  
Grinning madly, John watched as Lestrade did a classic double-take and then Sherlock was engulfed in a massive bear hug. The detective was embarrassed but allowed it and even patted Greg on the back a bit while rolling his eyes at John. It was clear to John that Lestrade had thought them both lost in the fire. No doubt Greg had been castigating himself for not responding to John’s call for help right away and had begun grieving for them.  

Sherlock pointed toward John and their escort.  Lestrade jumped up and ran over to John obviously intending to embrace him as well, but stopped a few feet away when he got a good look at the doctor. 

Lestrade sounded like he was underwater, but John could understand him well enough. “Jesus H. Christ on a crutch, John.  Are you all right?  You look like shite!”

John smiled, though it hurt his cheek and tried to reply, but his coughing started up again. The smoke had exacerbated the bruising in his throat and he started to wheeze, which was not good.  Whatever had been in that smoke was a major irritant.  His eyes were beginning to itch, too. Time to go to hospital. 

Alarmed, Sherlock stepped forward and put his arm around John again. The doctor had missed the warmth and leaned into his alpha.  “Okay, it’s off to hospital with you and no arguing. Let’s go, John.”  The doctor really hadn’t planned on arguing and nodded his aching head as they began to shuffle once again over to the ambulances.

Lestrade followed them with wide eyes.  John wasn’t going to say anything about the tear stains on Greg’s cheeks.  He was just happy to see their friend. Lestrade was someone they could rely on to help with the police and hospital since Sherlock wasn’t in the best of shape either.  John could feel his alpha trembling with pain and fatigue.  

The paramedics met and separated them from their police escort.  Then Gloria was there and she took charge of John immediately. Another tried to take Sherlock away but he ignored the man and helped the doctor into the ambulance as Gloria got an oxygen mask ready for John as soon as he sat on the gurney.  

Sherlock got a mask handed to him also but tried to brush it away until John glared at him. John kept glaring until he put the mask over his nose and mouth.  The detective had not got as much exposure to the smoke as John but he was a sentinel and could have a bad reaction at any time. John wasn’t going to accept his mate’s usual bad behaviour around the paramedics this time. 

Gloria got John to lie down and began to take his vitals. It was nice and warm in the vehicle and he relaxed.  He gratefully breathed in the oxygen and the frequency of his coughing decreased.   

Gloria shook her head at him. “What have you done to yourself, luv? I don’t like the sound of your breathing and look at all those horrid bruises around your throat! Are those finger marks?”  John’s hearing was improving but he was afraid to answer for fear of triggering another coughing fit. 

He didn’t want to think about what she would say when she saw the incisions on his abdomen.  Maybe he’d wait to mention that. John was fairly certain the wounds had stopped bleeding and there really wasn’t anything she could do about them at the moment. The doctors at the hospital would have to clean them and then staple him up.

Sherlock sat on the ambulance’s step at the foot of John’s gurney and put a hand on his ankle to reassure him as Gloria worked.  It was probably the only place on John’s body that didn’t hurt.  The detective turned and spoke to Lestrade, who nodded and gave Sherlock a pat on his knee.  “I’ll give Mycroft a call now and meet you at St Thomas’ Hospital in a few. Take good care of him, now.”  

Sherlock’s expression of disdain was priceless and John had to fight not to start laughing. The oxygen was helping with the pain in his head but he was still wheezing.   He sure hoped he wouldn’t have to be intubated. He always hated that.  

Now that he was lying down, John’s exhaustion overwhelmed him and he couldn’t stop his itching eyes from closing.   When he opened them next, it was to see the fluorescent tubes of a hospital corridor’s lighting fixtures flashing by at high speed above him.  He still had the oxygen mask over his face but he was strapped down. 

The gurney he was on arrived in a treatment room.  Then someone was speaking quickly beside him and he was pleased to realise the volume of the voice sounded almost normal. The person was calling out vitals but things didn’t sound very good for whomever she was discussing.   

She was talking about someone who was approximately 12 weeks pregnant, suffering from smoke inhalation, had low oxygen levels, low blood pressure, high heart rate, shallow respiration, multiple contusions, lacerations, broken bones, first degree burns and had lost a lot of blood. John was very concerned for that person until he realised they were discussing him.   
  
Forgetting about his raw throat, he tried to speak but it set off the worst coughing fit yet. John started seeing stars and pain ripped through his abdomen. Were his babies okay? Low oxygen levels were bad. Breathing suddenly became more difficult and it felt like his throat was closing up on him.  Where was Sherlock? 

As he was coughing his lungs up, John watched helplessly as the orderlies converged on him and transferred him to the exam table.  Doctors and nurses with surgical masks and face shields surrounded him next. Still wondering where Sherlock was, he lost consciousness.   It was just as well, because they did have to intubate him after all.

John remembered waking once and trying to remove the tube in his throat but his arms had been strapped down.  He was in a lot of pain and looked wildly about thinking he was still in Justin’s horrific lair.  Terrified, he thrashed and struggled, trying to get free. A fast, loud beeping noise was in going off somewhere in the room.  Where was Sherlock?  Was he safe? 

Then his bond mate was there, stroking his brow and speaking soothing nonsense to him in his beautiful, deep baritone that sounded somewhat hoarse.  His scent, touch and voice calmed John at once and he stopped fighting the tube. Belatedly the doctor realised he was in hospital and remembered that Justin was dead and burned to ash.  The sense of relief was nearly overwhelming and his heart rate finally slowed down.  Then a nurse was there and injected something through one of the many IV lines.  

Next time he awoke, the tube was out and his throat felt like someone had scraped it raw with a rusty razor blade. He could tell that he’d been catheterized, which he also hated. A doctor was standing beside his bed, checking something on one of the machines in the room. John peered blearily at the man’s name tag and saw that it said Dr Scott. 

John swallowed and it felt like a bomb had gone off in his throat. But he had to speak and grabbed the man’s arm.   “M…my babies. Are they okay?”  His voice was a complete wreck and it sounded like he had swallowed gravel. 

Dr Scott looked surprised.  “You really shouldn’t be talking right now, Dr Watson.  But yes, your babies are all fine. Dr Fulton was here after the surgery and did an ultrasound.  Every one of them is healthy and doing as well as can be expected. Now, please relax and don’t worry.  You’re going to be just fine and you need your rest.”

 _Every one of them?_    That was an odd way to phrase it, but what was important was that the twins were fine.   John didn’t remember any surgery but he’d expected that his wrist would require it. There had been a lot of displacement after Justin had kicked it and he hoped that the tendons and ligaments hadn’t been adversely affected by the length of time it had taken to get him to hospital.  He drifted off into a natural sleep as Dr Scott stood nearby, checking over the machines and IVs. 

The next time John woke, Sherlock was there with some ice chips, his upper right arm heavily bandaged and in a sling.  There were small cuts all over his face and his eyes were red, probably from the irritants in the smoke. The backs of his hands were bandaged, too. 

Aside from aching in his wrist, face and abdomen, John wasn’t in a lot of pain.  They must have him on some good stuff.  Looking around, he saw that he’d been put in a private room that was cheerful and full of natural light from large windows along one side of the room.  Beautiful flowers covered nearly every flat surface.  He smiled and opened his mouth to speak but Sherlock shook his head and spooned in some ice chips instead.

“You’re not to speak, John. Not for at least a week, apparently. There was damage to your vocal chords from the smoke and White bruised your oesophagus badly as well.” He fed John some more ice chips as the doctor raised his brows at him questioningly.

“To answer your questions, our children are just fine. You’ve been unconscious on and off for the last twelve hours.  Successful surgery has been done on your wrist. In addition, there is a fracture to the temporal process of your left zygomatic bone and severely brused ribs.  The incisions on your abdomen were not deep and were closed with staples. However, you’re on intravenous antibiotics to prevent infection because of contact with the sewer water. You lost a lot of blood but not enough for a blood transfusion.  You’re to stay on intravenous fluids and antibiotics for a few more days, though.

“Your temporary deafness seems to have resolved itself, though you may experience some tinnitus.   In addition, you are suffering from severe bruising on your throat and some minor burns on the back of your neck, face and hands.” 

John gestured to his catheter and raised his brows again. “Oh, yes. They’re to remove that once you can stay awake for more than a few hours, so I expect they’ll do that later today.”  

A nurse bustled in at that moment and checked all his lines.  “I’m Doris, Dr Watson.  I know you’re not to speak so just nod or shake your head, okay?”  John nodded. 

She asked questions about his comfort level and if he was in much pain. He could honestly indicate he was comfortable for now and after she checked his lines and wrote some things down, she sailed out of the room. 

After she was gone, John looked meaningful at his bond mate’s arm and bandaged hands. “Oh, yes. I’m fine.  I received minimal injury from the smoke inhalation, though my eyes reacted and swelled somewhat.  The knife wound on my chest was superficial and the wound in my arm, while deep, was easily cleaned and sutured. I’m to keep my arm in a sling for another few days.” 

John knew he wouldn’t do it and rolled his eyes, then smiled seraphically at Sherlock’s mock expression of outraged hurt.  The alpha couldn’t keep the expression on his face for long and broke into a smile.  

“I’m very pleased that you’re doing so well, John.   You had me worried for a time. Your throat began to swell in reaction to the smoke and you were in respiratory distress when you arrived here.  They got you intubated just in time. I’ll have to make sure to thank Gloria for getting you here alive.”  John nodded enthusiastically and suggested by gestures that they order flowers for her. Gloria loved flowers.  
  
Again, John gestured for Sherlock to go on, wanting to know more about the case.  “The fires are finally out, John. It’s going to be a few more days before it’s cool enough to start searching the ruins but I doubt they’ll find much.  The fire was incredibly hot and burned for almost two days before the fire brigades could extinguish it.” 

John nodded. He’d hoped that the families of the murder victims might have something to bury, but maybe it was just as well that they didn’t know what exactly had happened to their loved ones.

Suddenly, he remembered Ricky and Trey.  As usual, Sherlock read his mind and smiled gently down at him.  “Both boys got to the corner shop where you sent them. The shop owner rang the police and the boys were back with their parents within an hour after you got them out of the warehouse.  

“You’re a hero, John, though I’ve known that about you since I first met you.” John felt himself blush but smiled brightly up at Sherlock. “Their parents want to meet you when you’re better.  The boys have been asking after you and they sent you this.”  

Sherlock reached over to the side table and picked up a large piece of paper with childish images all over it and handed it to John. It was a hand drawn get well card with a picture of John, Ricky and Trey on the front.  The doctor knew it was him because there was a big arrow pointing to him with his name written carefully above it.  Ricky and Trey were identified the same way and all three were holding hands and standing in the rays of a bright yellow sun.  Inside the boys had written, ‘Get Well Soon, Mr Watson!’ They had also drawn hearts, flowers, red crosses and very large, rather scary looking syringes everywhere, as well as some kind of animal that he couldn’t identify. 

“That is supposed to be a teddy bear, John. It is to comfort you, apparently. At least that’s what they told me.” John looked up quickly at that, eyes opened wide with questions.  “Yes, I got to meet them and their parents.  They were quite well behaved, for children.”   
  
John shook his head and his eyes laughed at his bond mate. The man was such a fraud. The detective had been so incredibly worried about those children that he’d gone off alone to find them.  And John reminded himself that once he could talk again, he and Sherlock were going to have some words about that.

Grinning in delight, he looked back down to the get well card and saw that the boys had signed their names and added enormous X’s and O’s and their parents had done the same, though without the hugs and kisses.  The parents had left a message indicating they hoped John and Sherlock would allow the boys to see John once he was well.  The doctor smiled in relief and satisfaction at knowing that the boys were alive and back with their parents. It made everything he’d been through worth while. 

“There are some other people who would like to visit with you once you’re feeling up to it.  Mycroft and Father have asked after you and Lestrade wants to see you, as well. Your mother, Harry and Clara are all staying at the flat right now and will stop in once your doctors say you’re well enough for visitors. Which should be soon.” 

John rolled his eyes. He hated staying in hospital as much as Sherlock. “You’re to stay here at least another four days, according to your doctors. They want to make sure your wrist is healing well with no sign of infection and once the swelling is down, they want to put it in plaster. They also need to make sure your throat isn’t going to start swelling again and your abdomen is healing before they let you go.”  Sherlock was staring at him with a stern expression and John could only nod in agreement. If he were the doctor, he’d have advised the same so he could complain only so much. 

Sherlock sighed and glanced away briefly.  John nudged his bond mate’s hand and gave him a quizzical look. 

“Alpha Sentinel Prime Hayes wants to see you, too. As you can imagine, she’s not best pleased at your escape. However, I made sure she was informed of all the facts in the case and that I believed that you had no recourse. If you had waited as you were told to do, I’d be dead or a mindless pawn of Justin’s.   

“I also told her that our spirit animals were involved but you’ll have to explain the complete story when you can talk again.  I think she’s going to have to take that into consideration, especially since Douglas has very close connections to the spirit world as well.  She of all people should understand a guide’s need to protect his sentinel.” 

Nodding in agreement, John knew that he would have to face Moira sometime and was ready for it.  He was prepared to accept whatever punishment she decided to give him.  He was very glad to know that Sherlock had been able to inform her about what had happened so she wouldn’t stew about it. 

Suddenly he felt very tired and it was hard to keep his eyes open.  Sherlock cupped his face gently, kissed his forehead and tenderly brushed the fringe back off his forehead.  “There’s some other news, but it will keep until later.  Sleep now, my love. I’ll be here when you wake.”  John smiled faintly and fell asleep, secure in the knowledge that he and his bond mate were safe and on the mend. 

A day later, John was bored out of his skull. Sherlock had been asked to make a statement to the police and would be gone for hours.   The omega was running a slight fever and wasn’t feeling up to visitors or reading. 

The hospital staff were weaning him off the good stuff and had put him on only the mildest of pain killers so his face, belly and wrist throbbed uncomfortably, making him feel restless.  An IV for fluids and antibiotics was still necessary but on the bright side, the catheter was long gone and he’d been able to make it to the loo by himself.   

Once there, he’d got a good look in the mirror and understood why his visitors appeared so shocked when getting a first glimpse of him.  The swelling on his broken cheek was down some but the whole side of his face was one big black bruise and his left eye had suffered subconjunctival haemorrhaging so he looked monstrous.  His forehead, cheeks and back of his neck and hands had first degree burns from the fire and were red and rough looking.  He also had some patches on the back of his head where the hair had scorched off. And the bruises around his neck were a hideous purple-black and had been unmistakably made by a human hand.  

The doctor had also taken a peek at the staples holding the cuts to his abdomen together and had been very impressed. He couldn’t have done better himself, though the edges of the wounds were tender and rather raw. He hoped they weren’t the source of his fever.  His abdomen was very uncomfortable, however and it made walking a chore and getting in and out of the bed an adventure.  
  
He’d been allowed a very short visit by his family the previous evening but his mum had burst into tears as soon as she’d seen his face and both Clara and Harry had paled noticeably when they’d arrived.  But after a few minutes, they were relaxed and teasing him about his baby bump and he was surprised to realise he actually had begun to show.  That lightened everyone’s spirits and then Clara brought up the bonding ceremony and having met Mrs Holmes, who had arrived with Monique in London earlier in the week.   

Even if he could have added to the conversation, John might as well have not been there but he’d enjoyed listening and watching their happy faces.  It was a great relief not to have to deal with the specifics of the bonding ceremony. All he had to do, aside from deciding what he was planning to wear, was show up and have a good time.  

Concerning his outfit, he had decided to have a suit designed by Mark and not wear traditional bonding robes.  Waddling about in robes would have made him feel like a berk and he was pleased to have that decision out of the way.  Sherlock had spoken with Mark that morning and left the design in the expert tailor’s hands. Mark knew what kind of style and colour that best favoured John and they trusted his judgement. 

Not being able to communicate easily was becoming a problem. John had been given a pad of paper and a biro so he could write, but having the peripheral IV line in the back of his right hand made it a bit awkward, especially when he was hooked up to the fluids or antibiotics. Persevering, he usually managed to make himself understood and he was getting better at writing with his non-dominant hand. 

Sherlock had delivered John’s laptop but hunting and pecking one-handed was slow going.  The detective had also brought John his own pyjamas and robe, so the doctor felt nearly civilised as he sat up in bed, laptop on the bedside table in front of him.  He wondered if he had enough energy to write out a statement about what had happened at the warehouses for Lestrade.  It might be best to get started while it was still fresh in his head, though he knew it would be some time before he was able to forget the nightmarish things he’d seen and experienced in Justin’s warehouse of horrors.  
   
There was a small knock on the door and it was gently pushed open partway. A nursing assistant named Cara peeked inside the room.  “I’ve got your lunch here, Dr Watson. May I come in?”  He nodded and beckoned her inside.  She was very young and smiled at him shyly as she brought the tray over and set it onto the bedside table beside the laptop.   
  
“Is there anything else I can get for you, Dr Watson? More water or ice?” John returned her smile and shook his head no. He was trying to obey his doctors and not speak, though it was hard to remember sometimes. 

The young woman practically glowed at him in return and spoke diffidently.  “Okay, but if you need anything, please ring the bell.  Before I go, I just want to say what an honour it is to be one of the staff helping you here in the guide wing, Dr Watson.  I just heard about how brave you were and that you’re a hero, saving those boys and how you’re the omega guide everyone had been searching for.”  She stopped talking and frowned when she saw John’s startled and horrified expression.  

He grated out, his throat hurting terribly, “What the… where did you hear this?”  

She looked confused but answered him honestly. “It’s all over the news on the telly.  How you single-handedly rescued those kidnapped twin boys and saved your alpha and unearthed that serial killer. And that you’re the omega guide that the Tower Hunted back in October and how you escaped them. You mean you don’t know?”    
  
”Christ, no! How did…,” his voice failed him at that point and the poor young woman looked panicked.  

“I’m so sorry! I thought you knew! It’s been on the telly all morning. Here, let me show you. The 12 o’clock news programme is just starting.” She grabbed the remote from the nightstand and turned channel to the local news broadcast at noon. 

A reporter was sitting at her desk before the camera, looking thrilled. “Thank you for joining us at London at Noon as we repeat our exciting top stories of the day. The identity of the omega guide who bravely defied the London Sentinel Tower last October has finally been revealed today by an anonymous source close to the Tower.  And the family of the twin Lewis boys who were kidnapped by a serial killer from the London Zoo on Saturday has come forward to identify and thank their rescuer. The most incredible thing is that it appears both men are one and the same! 

“Russell Burroughs met with the Lewis family earlier today and brings you this remarkable and absolutely exclusive report.” 

The camera cut away to a pre-recorded segment.  It seemed the young Lewis family had been ambushed by the reporter and camera operator as they were arriving home but they appeared to be more surprised than upset.  

John could see Ricky and Trey peeking out from behind their very pregnant omega mum and had to smile. They were cute little boys and he was very pleased to see they looked unafraid and calm.  Their ordeal would have made many hardened veterans quail but John knew those two kids were resilient and ultimately would be okay.  He was thankful neither one had been physically hurt by what happened. 

The reporter approached, brandishing a microphone but gave the family a chance to back away if they didn’t want to engage him. He then spoke respectfully. “Mr and Mrs Lewis? Would you please be willing to tell our viewers how you feel about getting your boys back? Are they all right and what do you know about their rescuer?”  
  
The couple seemed to glow with happiness and Mr Lewis spoke up, grinning. “We plan to get them some counselling but so far the boys seem just fine. We are over the moon and eternally grateful to Dr Watson for finding them and setting them free from that awful warehouse right before it burned down.  He comforted them and got them out through a coal chute in the basement wall.  He wasn’t able to get out that way himself, but I understand he did get away. The police told us that his alpha sentinel had also been kidnapped by the same horrible man who took our boys, which was why he was there in the first place, looking for his bond mate. 

“We were so relieved when the police told us they’re sure that Michael Justin can’t hurt anyone else anymore and that Dr Watson is directly responsible.  The police also told us that Dr Watson was badly injured but he’s now at St Thomas’ where he’s in the guide’s wing of the hospital and recovering.  His sentinel said the boys could visit soon.  God bless John Watson and his sentinel! The man is a true hero and we owe him everything.” Mr Lewis smiled down at his beautiful family with intense relief and joy. 

Ricky was tugging on his mum’s coat and she bent over to listen to him whisper in her ear. She nodded and Ricky stepped forward shyly with Trey beside him. “Mum said we could say thank you to Dr Watson. He was nice and smelled just like Mum and said he was going to have a baby, too. He said we were to be brave and to race to the corner shop and not stop for anything and ring 999.  So we did and the police came and then Mum and Dad collected us.  It was brilliant!” 

Trey took up the story, blue eyes innocent and wide.  “We made Dr Watson a card with our best colours and gave it to his alpha sentinel.  Mr Holmes was tall and scary looking but really nice to us and said he’d give it to him.  But in case he didn’t get the card yet, we wanted to say it.”  He looked at his brother and then they both waved at the camera and said, “Thank you Dr Watson, for helping us. You’re the bravest omega ever.  Get well soon and we love you!”  

John put a shaking hand over his mouth.  He couldn’t believe that he’d just been outed by two seven year olds and their well-meaning parents.  But no, the newscaster said that someone associated with the London Tower had also given his name as the omega guide who was the focus of the Hunt. He switched his attention back to the telly.  
  
The camera had returned to the reporter seated at her desk.  “We will be going live to the site of the devastating warehouse fires in a few moments but first, in a closely related story, an anonymous source associated with the London Sentinel Tower has revealed the name of the omega guide who had the entire country captivated and literally up in arms in support of his desperate fight for freedom back in October of last year. 

“If our viewers will recall, the relentless pursuit and mistreatment of this omega guide by the former London Tower Alpha Sentinel Prime Colin Fitzhugh was captured on television and rebroadcast worldwide on the internet.  This event led directly to a successful challenge of Fitzhugh’s leadership by alpha sentinel Moira Hayes and Fitzhugh’s resulting defeat and banishment. This video may be difficult for young viewers.” 

John watched riveted in dismay as they began to replay the video of Fitzhugh forcing him to his knees and striking him across the face as he was held helpless. He heard a slight gasp from the young nurse’s assistant as she watched it, eyes wide in horror. John had nearly forgotten she was even there.    

“The exposure of the abuse of this unique individual appears to have led indirectly to the complete collapse of the political agenda of the Traditionalist’s Party in the British Parliament and ultimately caused their near total ruin. In addition, the resounding defeat of their legislative attempts to rollback omega and guide rights can be rightfully attributed to this event and the backlash that it generated.”  
  
The official army photo of John in his uniform flashed up on the screen. He barely recognised himself, he looked so young. It had been taken years ago and his face was now much more careworn and his hair more grey than blond.  How had they found out about him? They had said someone associated with the Tower had revealed his name. Who there would have given him away?  Who would profit from revealing that knowledge?  He wasn’t sure whether to be furious or resigned. 

“The omega guide has now been revealed by the anonymous source to be Dr John H. Watson of London. Our researchers tell us that he was a Captain attached to the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers as an assistant surgeon.  Dr Watson served six tours in Afghanistan and is a decorated war veteran. Records indicate that was given a medical discharge and sent back home when he was seriously wounded by a sniper’s bullet over a year ago. 

“This is the same man who saved the kidnapped boys on Sunday and from what we have determined from our police sources, went up against a serial killer alone and unarmed to rescue his bond mate.  We are in the process of learning more about this remarkable omega and will be sharing that with our viewers as soon as possible. 

“Please stay tuned to our broadcast. After the news, we have engaged a number of experts in sentinel/guide relations and London Sentinel Tower history who will be attempting to explain the consequences of all these events in the context of politics within Parliament and the Sentinel Towers.  We also have a former army general who will discuss with us how the military could have an omega guide serve successfully and with distinction within their ranks for years without the upper ranks knowing who and what he actually was.  We also hope he will talk about what the ramifications of that will be for omegas or guides who might wish to enlist in future. 

“However, we now have some breaking news concerning the warehouse fires at River Road. We now go live to Wesley Dalebrook, who is at the site of the harrowing rescue of the kidnapped twins as we continue to gather more details of the story. Have you found anything new, Wes?”  

The camera switched over to yet another young reporter.  He was standing just in front of an area that John immediately recognised as the former meth lab.  The building was still smoking somewhat and all that was left were bits of the brick foundations and scorched metal support structures.  Yellow police tape was stretched out behind the reporter and members of the police and fire brigade were standing around watching curiously.  

“Yes, Anne.  We have been unofficially informed just now by anonymous sources in New Scotland Yard that alleged serial killer Michael Justin has been declared dead. A press conference will be held in a few hours for the official announcement and we will bring it to you live. 

“Justin was supposedly trapped in the fires that consumed the two warehouses behind me on Sunday night, resulting in his death.   His known accomplice, Huw White, had been found deceased in the same warehouse earlier that same afternoon by the police who came to investigate the kidnapping of the Lewis twins.  The cause of his death is still under investigation though there has been speculation that he may have been killed by Justin. 

“As you might remember, it was discovered just a short time ago that Michael Justin had murdered his father and his father’s omega over a year ago and had covered up their disappearances.   It has also been uncovered that Justin, with the help of his accomplice, Huw White, had allegedly kidnapped and murdered at least seven sets of identical twins that we know of at this time. 

“The police had been unable to find Justin despite an extensive manhunt of the entire city and it was only through the efforts of private consultants, Sherlock Holmes and his partner John Watson that the connection between the kidnappings and the serial killer was made at all.  
  
”On Saturday, Justin was seen on CCTV abducting two children at the zoo, causing widespread panic amongst the public. He apparently brought the children here and imprisoned them in the basement overnight. It was Sunday afternoon that Dr Watson found and rescued them. 

“Right now I am standing in front of the remains of the two warehouses that were destroyed by a fire that began on Sunday early evening.  We don’t yet know what caused the fire but we do know that it was partly fuelled with volatile chemicals that were illegally stored in one of the buildings.”  

The young beta knelt amid rubble on the pavement and gestured to a hole in the foundation that John recognised as the coal chute. The cover was gone but that part of the foundation had survived better than most for some reason, though the bricks were distorted and blackened by the fire. 

“This is the escape route that Dr Watson used to save the lives of the two young kidnapping victims.  As you can see, Anne, the hole is too small for an adult but was perfect for the children.  Without Dr Watson, both boys would no doubt have died in the fire.”  The young man stood and gestured away from the river and up toward the other warehouses along the street. “This is the direction that the children ran. They made it to a corner shop eight streets away.  The shop’s owner, Mr Akhtar, declined to be interviewed, but rang the police immediately and kept the children safe until police and their parents could arrive.” 

The camera panned back to show the hideous black remains of the two warehouses. “We might never know why Michael Justin did the horrible things he was accused of doing.  However, the city can rest safe today knowing that he is gone because of the efforts of a consulting alpha sentinel detective and his omega guide partner.”  
  
The screen split to show both the young man and the reporter in the studio.  “Wes, can you tell us anything about the status of Dr Watson and his alpha, Sherlock Holmes?” 

The young man nodded. “Anne, I’ve talked with numerous police on the scene and they say both men were injured, though Dr Watson more seriously.  They were taken to St Thomas’ Hospital on Sunday night to the special wing for sentinels and guides and that’s where Dr Watson is at this time.  We contacted officials at the hospital but they declined to comment on Dr Watson’s or Mr Holmes condition and there has been no response to attempts to contact either sentinel or guide at their home or by phone.”  
  
”Thank you, Wes, for that amazing report.  Please stay tuned for our special segment….” 

John took the remote from Cara’s hand and switched off the television. She smiled at him apologetically and left the room quickly. 

He lay back in the bed and covered his eyes with his hand. The smell of the food made him feel ill and all he wanted was to leave and go somewhere far away with Sherlock, preferably someplace warm with beaches and lots and lots of sand. Unfortunately, he knew he couldn’t run away and frankly he had always figured he’d have to face the public sooner or later.  

The business card from the omega activist was still in his wallet. If he was going to have to tell his story, he’d rather have another omega do the interviewing. Hopefully this would all be a nine-day wonder and he could get back to his life afterward.  Carefully rubbing his slightly bulging abdomen, John knew it was time he focused on slowing down and taking care of the twins.  No more running around and doing risky things. 

He laid his head back on the pillow and laughed at himself. Who did he think he was kidding? He was bonded to Sherlock Holmes. There would always be risky things happening around him and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

In the meantime, he was pretty sure he’d be going back to the Tower as soon as he was released from hospital and they could provide a buffer from the adoring public until things blew over. He’d still love to know who had given his name to the press.  There was one name in particular that came to mind but until he could investigate, he’d refrain from making any accusations. 

Suddenly, there was the sound of a commotion in the hall outside his room.  He sat up, ready to defend himself when Sherlock burst in, slammed the door and leaned against it to keep it closed until the racket died down.   
  
John stared at him in surprise and Sherlock huffed. “I can see that you know about your name getting out to the press. No doubt you were wondering what the noise outside was all about.  That was Mycroft’s people keeping the press away from your room.  There are masses of them outside the building and some got into this wing somehow.  I’ll have to ask Mycroft to seal off those entrances.”  Heaving a sigh the alpha took off his coat and slung it over the end of John’s bed. He then threw himself into the chair beside John’s bed and glowered. 

At the doctor’s questioning expression, Sherlock continued.  “Mycroft’s people are here because I asked him to send someone to watch over you in case such a thing happened.  I suspected that there might be some on the police force who could be bribed to tell of your involvement in the case but never suspected the Lewis children themselves would innocently give you away. Though, on second thought, I should have done.  I should also have expected that the Wilkes family would reveal your name to cause us no end of trouble.” 

John rolled his eyes and shook his head. Wilkes! That name had been the first that had come to mind.  The Wilkes family would benefit only through spite but the press could make John’s and Sherlock’s life hell if they weren’t handled correctly.  He picked up the pad of paper and wrote, ‘ _What’s done is done.  I’m glad I’m not Wilkes when Moira finds out about this, though.  Will you please contact Mr Dean and tell him to schedule an interview next week?  I’ll talk to him but no one else. His card is in my wallet._ ’    

Sherlock nodded and rummaged through John’s wallet until he found the card. Lying back in his bed, trying not to panic, John closed his eyes and listened as Sherlock spoke to the omega activist and arranged an appointment to meet them at the lobby of the Tower the following Monday. 

John had been told he’d be cleared to talk again by Saturday and would probably be out of hospital by Friday.  He was certain Dean would be allowed into the reception area of the Tower and he would ask Elliot to arrange a meeting room for them to use for the interview.  
  
Startled at a gentle touch on his forehead, John looked up into his alpha’s beautiful grey-green eyes.  “You’re still running a fever and it’s getting worse.  I can smell that the wounds in your abdomen are slightly infected.  Shall I call for the doctor?”   
  
It was a good idea. Sighing in frustration, John nodded and closed his eyes again.  His belly felt very sore and he wanted this taken care of so he could leave the place.  He hated being a patient more than just about anything.  

A soft kiss was placed on his forehead and he heard Sherlock leave the room.  Dr Scott came and went, prescribing another round of antibiotics and John went along wearily as the nurses hooked him up through his IV line.  Sherlock appropriated his laptop and was tapping away while John tried to rest. John noticed that the alpha was no longer using his sling but he’d expected that and didn’t complain. 

Someone came to remove his uneaten lunch while he dozed.  The afternoon passed quietly as he slept and Sherlock worked.  Things were restful for once and he savoured the rarity while he could.  He loved having Sherlock nearby and his omega side was especially basking in the scent of home and safety that the alpha represented.  John had not paid enough attention to that side of himself before and it was rather nice to give into it for now.     
  
Suddenly, he was jerked fully awake by another commotion in the hall. Sherlock was at the door and blocking it with his body before John could even open his eyes all the way.  Alarmed, he started to get out of bed, but Sherlock shook his head. 

“It’s just Moira, James and Tom.  Are you feeling better or shall I send them away?”  
  
John nodded and indicated they should enter. Sherlock stepped aside to allow them in.  None of them could hide their horrified reactions to the sight of John’s battered face and the bruises on his throat but they adjusted quickly. Elliot’s eyes were huge behind his spectacles and he looked very concerned. 

Sherlock stood by John and put a proprietary hand on his arm.  His expression toward the three Tower representatives was not welcoming but John nudged him and he backed down somewhat.  “You’ve got five minutes.  John can’t speak yet and he’s not been feeling well today, so say what you have to say and then go.” 

Moira nodded grimly.  “Right. John, I just wanted to let you know that no one from the Tower released your name to the press.  The Wilkes family did it in retaliation for what happened at the Tribunal.   They were furious that I plan to punish Sebastian and Susanne for what they did to you and they blame you for it.  I’m very sorry that I can’t take direct action against them but I’ll see to it that everyone important knows what they’ve done. 

“They meant to cause you great distress but I suspect it will backfire on them like everything else they’ve tried to do to you.  But I wanted you to know from me directly and not wonder what had happened.  Is there anything any of us can do for you?”  
  
John shook his head and wrote a note on his pad of paper. ‘ _Thank you, no.  I expect you want me back when I’m released from hospital?  Have you decided how much time you’ll add to my sentence for escaping?  I’d like to know the worst.’_  

Moira’s mouth tightened unhappily as she read what John had written.  “I’d honestly not considered it, John. Sherlock explained what happened. It was incredibly shocking and if you hadn’t escaped, you’d likely have lost him.  I can’t punish you for that.  We’ll keep your sentence at the two weeks and Sherlock will be permitted to stay with you at night.  I don’t want either of you wandering around without the other and I need to know you’re both safe in the Tower until this whole thing with the press blows over.  If you like, I can arrange a press conference and speak for you to appease them. I don’t mind.” 

Smiling, John shook his head.  _‘Not necessary but thank you anyway.’_   He looked up at Sherlock, who nodded. 

“Of course I’ll stay with John at the Tower for the rest of the time. I could use a rest, as well.  I’ll notify you when John is to be released from hospital, which should be on Friday if all goes well.” 

Tom exchanged a glance with James and stepped forward.  "John, I hope you will be willing to speak to us about what happened with Justin.  I understand from Sherlock that he was an omega guide, too.  He also said that your spirit guides were directly involved with what happened. I know it's something that's normally not done to ask about a spirit journey but I hope you'll be willing to share what you discovered with us." 

Since he’d planned to discuss it with Tom anyway, John indicated his willingness to talk about it as soon as he could speak again.  John could see that all three visitors were very relieved and they left shortly after that.  The doctor was very glad to know he wouldn’t be further punished for acting to save his alpha’s life. It would be incredibly unfair but he would have done more time if Moira had required it.  He didn’t regret a thing and would not have changed any of his actions. 

The next few days were restful and he made sure to keep the telly off to keep his blood pressure down.  He was improving by leaps and bounds.  The fever vanished with the new course of antibiotics and John felt increasingly better with each passing day.  The staples in his belly were removed but he was warned to take it easy for a few more days. The cuts were on their way to healing well and the bruises were beginning to fade. 

The surgeon was very pleased with John’s wrist and a lightweight fibreglass cast was applied on Thursday morning.  He was feeling quite well and anticipating his release early the next day when there was a discreet knock on the door.  

John had had a full day of visitors already and wondered who it could be. Dr Fulton wasn’t expected for another hour or so and John’s family had stopped by earlier with Siger and Mycroft in tow.  Surprised, he had no idea when they’d met each other but he enjoyed their company and happy chatter.  

After they’d gone, Lestrade had next poked his head in and given him a cheery hello. John had been pleased to hand Greg the official statement of his harrowing adventures copied onto a memory stick and the DI had been incredibly grateful. Greg had chatted for a while as John listened, catching him up on what was happening with the case. 

Nothing much new had been discovered since the solvent fuelled fire had ravaged everything.  The bodies had been destroyed to such an extent that DNA couldn’t be extracted.  It was unfortunate for the families and John grieved for them.  Greg had left with a promise to let him know of any new developments.

The rather tentative knock came again and since Sherlock had gone out, John got up to answer it. He opened the door to see Violet Holmes on the other side with a gorgeous vase of flowers in her arms.  Rather surprised, John didn’t move and just stared at her.  
  
She looked very uncomfortable but lifted her chin.  The expression was exactly like Sherlock's and he blinked at her in bemusement.  “I wanted to see you, John.  I know you can’t talk yet, but I would like to visit with you for a few minutes if I may.”  
  
John had to think about it and he could see her courage wilting as he stood there, unresponsive.  Sighing, the doctor relented and stepped back to allow his mother-in-law to enter the room.  He took the flowers from her and he set them by one of the windows. They really were gorgeous.  Violet waited until John was seated before she took a chair.  She looked him straight in the eye without flinching and began quietly. 

“Thank you, John.  I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness but I’d like to tell you how very sorry I am that I misjudged you and treated you so badly. I’ve apologised to Sherlock and he says he forgives me.  I had hoped you would give me the chance to explain. But then I realised I have no explanation for my behaviour, only poor excuses.  

“You know that I had certain ...expectations about who would bond with my son.  You know what I said about you and I won’t repeat it.”  She paled and lowered her gaze briefly as John’s eyes narrowed dangerously but she looked back up after a moment.   

“I was wrong and didn’t listen to Sherlock or to you.   My son was right about me in that I refused to accept that he is an adult. That he has created his own career path and has chosen his own partner. I couldn’t understand what he was doing and wouldn’t believe that what he did could actually be more important than a position working for the government and advancing in politics. 

“But again, I was wrong. What you do is so much more important than a government job and politics. I’ve heard what was reported on the news and listened to the stories about what you did to save Sherlock and those little boys. I saw how brave you were and how you are dedicated to saving lives as both a doctor and by helping Sherlock in his work. I know now that you find justice for victims who can’t get it otherwise and you make a real difference in the world. I know that now.”  
  
When John didn’t respond, Violet lowered her eyes, stood and walked to the door. She turned back before she left. “I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see me again but I hope you’ll consider forgiving me.  I promise I’ll never interfere or criticise you again.  I’d like very much to be a part of your lives and the lives of your children if you’ll allow it.”  

With that, Violet turned and left the room, leaving John rather stunned by her reversal in attitude.  That took some guts and he admired her courage.  He wasn’t sure what to think about the things she’d said but he was never one to hold a grudge.  Giving her another chance wouldn’t hurt but he’d have to see how Sherlock felt about it. She said she’d apologised to him, as well and he’d forgiven her, so John would wait and see how she behaved in future family gatherings and go from there.  

Somehow, the conversation and his decision to give her another chance if Sherlock agreed had made him feel much lighter in spirit than he’d been in a long time.   He hadn’t truly realised how deeply Violet’s disapproval had affected him.  Their children deserved to have extended family in their lives and he wanted to make sure it was possible. If Violet meant what she said and actually carried through with her promise. 

He checked the clock and realised it was almost time for Dr Fulton to stop in.  The kindly obstetrician had been by earlier in the week when John was still out of it but had assured Sherlock the babies were fine.  They’d missed a scheduled appointment while John was in hospital and Sherlock had arranged another the following week, so John wasn’t exactly sure why Dr Fulton was coming by except that he was a nice man and John was looking forward to seeing him. 

There was a quick knock on the door and before John could answer, it was pushed open and Dr Fulton strode into the room, grinning.  John returned the smile and extended his hand in greeting.  

Dr Fulton shook his hand carefully but enthusiastically. “Well you certainly look much better than you did a few days ago, young man. I’m delighted to see you recovering so well!”  The obstetrician’s buoyant personality seemed to fill the room with optimism and John couldn’t help but react positively.  
  
”Now I know you can’t start speaking again until Saturday but I wanted to check in with you to make sure everything is going well.”  He eyed John until the omega nodded and wrote out on some paper,  _‘All is well, thanks!  I get to leave in the morning.’_  

Dr Fulton nodded happily.  “As long as you feel well and you have no complaints, I’ll be seeing you next week then.  Oh, I wanted to give this to you.  Earlier this week while you were unconscious, I did a sonogram of the babies and the hospital printed out a picture.  I also wanted to know what you thought of the news!”   

John’s eyebrows drew together in a confused frown.  _What news?_  Then he remembered Sherlock saying when John had first awakened something about additional news. But then the alpha had said that it could wait. John had not really remembered to ask and Sherlock hadn’t brought it up again.       
  
The obstetrician chuckled.  “Ah. I can see my godson has chickened out and not told you.  If you look at that sonogram, you’ll see something we missed the first time we did a scan.  It’s not actually unusual to miss something like that the first go round.”  
  
John stared down at the print and then did a double-take, eyes wide.  The image was taken from a different position than the ones taken earlier and he could clearly see what appeared to be three small bean shapes, each with their own sacs sitting inside him.  He blinked at it a few times and shook his head, denying what he was seeing. 

Grinning hugely at John’s expression of disbelief, Dr Fulton pointed out the images.  “See, here’s the third one. We missed it the last time because she’s hiding behind the two in front and positioned far in the back of your uterus. Congratulations, you’re actually having triplets!”   

John felt like his jaw was going to hit the floor.  How could this be happening?  Why didn’t Sherlock or the doctor hear the third heartbeat? John looked up in confusion at Dr Fulton.  Grabbing the paper, he wrote out,  _‘Heartbeats?’_  

“You mean why didn’t either of us hear the third heartbeat?” When John nodded, the doctor shrugged.   “I suspect it was partly Sherlock is inexperienced and that it’s possible he missed the third one because the heartbeats can synchronise and he didn’t recognise it.  Sometimes you can’t pick up a foetal heartbeat at the early stages with ultrasound either, especially if the foetus has positioned itself in the back of the uterus like this one has done.”  The doctor looked narrowly at John and seemed concerned.  “Are you okay?”  
  
John’s eyes widened in disbelief.  What an absurd question! Of course he wasn’t okay!  This was much worse than just having twins. He’d have  _three_  at once. Two were manageable but three! This was just simply unacceptable. 

Shaking his head, he staggered over to the bed and collapsed.  He glared angrily at Dr Fulton, who was covering his mouth and trying not to laugh.  “I suppose you need some time to digest this information.  I’m glad I’m not Sherlock right now.” John glared harder and the obstetrician could no longer hold back his laughter.  

“You’ll be just fine, son.  I know that Sherlock will see to it that you’ll have all the help you need.” 

He sobered after a bit. “You know that this means I’ll need to keep a very close eye on you and that you’ll likely be delivering early?  And most likely by C-section?"  When John nodded sullenly, the beta’s mouth twitched again but he refrained from smiling. “Then I’ll see you next week! Try not to kill your bond mate, okay?  I've only got the one godson.”  With that, he left the room. John hoped that was the last visitor of the day because he didn’t want to see anyone else for the rest of his time in hospital.  
  
He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard and he especially couldn’t believe that Sherlock hadn’t told him.  But thinking back how he’d reacted about the twins, he couldn’t really blame the alpha.

Looking down at the print still in his hand, he examined the images closely.  They were so tiny yet, but he knew each one was at least two inches long by now.  The third one was even tinier, though, and he worried. Was she or he getting enough nutrients?  He just didn’t know but he was certain Dr Fulton would have said something if there was a problem or abnormality. The man was honest and would have been up front with him right away if he felt anything was wrong. 

John lay back, stared at the ceiling and tried to absorb this news.  Three Sherlock genius babies.  Oh, god.  He and the rest of the world were surely doomed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may not be an update next week. RL is interfering but in a good way. :-) Thanks for your patience and I'll get an update as soon as possible.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest apologies for not updating these last few weeks. On March 16 my elderly mother was hospitalized with pneumonia. She didn't respond to treatment and passed away on the 27th. Things have been rather fraught lately, to be honest. Thank you all for your patience with me and I hope most of you are still interested in the story. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this next part and I hope to finish in the next few weeks. Again, thank you all for your patience. I do appreciate it.

John attempted to doze off after trying to wrap his head around what he’d just learnt but had absolutely no success. His mind was a chaotic mess. Seeing all three babies clearly on the sonogram somehow brought reality crashing down on him in a way it hadn’t really done before.  Prior to this, he’d felt he still had time to prepare. Now everything was going to be rushed and hurried and he didn’t like it one bit.   

How could he possibly care for three infants all at once? There would have to be some serious organising along the lines of a military campaign so everything would run smoothly. Getting Sherlock on board might be tough but he’d simply have to whip the alpha into shape.  John would have some help of course.  Mycroft could find, investigate and hire the very best beta nannies in the country, but basic logistics were going to be a problem.  

Where would the children sleep? The upstairs room wasn’t that large and neither was their bedroom downstairs. Two babies were barely manageable but three were impossible. Maybe they could partition the lounge or dining area?  It would be feasible if they owned the property but that wasn’t the case. He sighed and faced facts. There was no help for it; they were going to have to find a larger flat and soon.  

Did Sherlock’s trust fund extend to buying a house in the city? He’d seen the bank statements so the answer was yes.  But John hated the idea of leaving Baker Street. It was more a home to him than any place he’d ever been.  But he would move if he had to do.  When it really came down to it, Sherlock was his home.  No matter where they were, as long as his alpha was there, he would be content.

But they needed to make a decision quickly. He wasn’t going to have a full nine months to prepare for the babies’ arrival any longer and he was going to be so large that doing anything, especially moving house, was going to be a real problem in about two months. If he remembered what he’d learnt in med school correctly, he would have to slow down drastically after 20 weeks and probably spend at least a month in hospital before the birth so he and the babies could be constantly monitored. 

Most triplets were taken by C-section at 33 weeks. There was simply no way he could safely carry them to term but the longer he could keep them inside, the healthier they’d be and less time they’d have to spend in the neonatal unit.    

There was so much to do! Even spending two weeks in the Tower was chafing at this point. Thankfully, Sherlock didn’t have the restrictions John would have in the Tower and the doctor could send him out on errands. His mum, Clara and Harry could help and maybe Mrs Holmes and Monique could pitch in.   

Even attending the bonding ceremony in April would be a problem. The timing was cutting things too close but there was no way anyone could have predicted this turn of events.  They needed to move up the bonding ceremony and change the venue to London.  

Once the doctors allowed him to speak, he would talk to his mum about moving up the bonding ceremony by at least a month or more. By the end of March he’d be almost in his sixth month. From what he recalled, by five months he’d probably have to stop doing most things and take it easy. Also, John just didn’t know if he’d be up to travelling all that way to France at that stage of his pregnancy.   He would ask to be sure though. Dr Fulton would no doubt let him know exactly what to expect when he went to see him next week. 

Grand-maman Holmes was in town and maybe her townhouse had a garden they could use for the ceremony.  Or maybe he could ask Siger and Violet to host. Their house was only a few hours away by car and there was plenty of room for family and guests like Ben and Starr. It could be an experiment to see if Violet meant what she said. 

His mind kept swirling around with all the things he needed to do. Since he couldn’t sleep at the moment, he pulled the laptop toward himself and got to work. Wireless internet was a wonderful thing. 

When Sherlock finally poked his head into the room, John was still absorbed in his search. He’d found a fair number of larger properties not too far from Baker Street that they should be able to afford to buy outright and others, even larger, that they might be able to qualify for financing.  The cost of property in London was obscene, but he figured that was fairly normal for large, international cities.  Other tabs of his browser were open to blogs and websites with personal stories and Q&A sections about birthing triplets and all the complications and joys involved.  Reading them had just reinforced his determination to find a new home and start preparing for their arrival as soon as humanly possible. 

Noticing that Sherlock had finally returned, he glanced up and speared his alpha with a narrow eyed look.  Sherlock stopped advancing into the room at John’s glare and his expression turned rather guilty. 

John narrowed his eyes even more and with a tight expression, held up three fingers.  He watched in hidden amusement as Sherlock paled and took a step back.  John continued to stare at his bond mate and raised an eyebrow.  Sherlock knew exactly what he meant and gulped. 

Clearly deciding to brave John’s displeasure, the alpha removed his coat casually, set it aside and smiled charmingly at the omega. “I see that Dr Fulton has been by to see you.  It appears that my mother visited, also.  I’m rather surprised by that, to be honest.  I didn’t think she would have screwed up enough courage to face you so soon.”  
  
Tilting his head and pressing his lips together tightly, John held up the sonogram and flapped it at his alpha. It was then that Sherlock broke down. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the triplets.  I was waiting for the appropriate time and….”  He stopped when John shook his head, then continued, subdued.  “You can be intimidating when you’re angry with me and the way you were so upset when you learnt about the twins, I thought it would easier to have Uncle David tell you.”  
  
John rolled his eyes and heaved an enormous sigh.  Beckoning Sherlock over beside his bed and pointing to the chair, the doctor shifted the laptop to show his alpha what he’d been doing.  Pulling the pad of paper over, he wrote out,  _‘When I can talk again, we’ll discuss this more. But right now we need a bigger flat. We have much less time to prepare, now that there will be three babies_.’   
  
Creases formed between the alpha’s brows as he looked at the properties that John had found. “John, this is rather sudden. Are you sure? We both prefer Baker Street. It’s a perfect location for my work and there are excellent public schools within walking distance.”  
  
The omega nodded and wrote, ‘ _I know. But we will need more room. I’m going to be as big as a whale very soon and won’t be able to do anything. It will be dangerous for the babies and me if I exert myself too much after 5 months, especially at my age._ ’ 

Sherlock stood back and shook his head.  “Why don’t we think about this and wait until we’re home? Waiting for two weeks isn’t going to matter much in the long run.  This is a drastic step. Maybe we could move after the babies are born. They won’t need that much room until they’re older.”  
  
Digesting this for a few moments, John nodded reluctantly.  They could conceivably put this off for a time. Truth to tell, he didn’t want to move and maybe it would be better after the children had arrived.   They could take their time and find the perfect place. He’d much rather have Regent’s Park nearby, but maybe a new home could have a backyard. And then the children would want pets and he’d be cleaning up after them as well. Oh god.  On the other hand, maybe there would be no backyard.   

Leaning down, Sherlock kissed his forehead.  “I can literally hear the gears whirring in your head. Stop it. I think it’s best to wait to talk about this until we’re home again. There’s time. What else have you been finding?”   
  
Taking back the laptop, he showed Sherlock all the websites he’d accessed about birthing and raising triplets. The amount of baby things they’d need was staggering.  Neither one of them had even begun to discuss what would be required, thinking they’d have plenty of time.  They both looked at each other and then back to the laptop, eyes glazing over. 

“I vote we put this off until we can speak with our mothers and Mrs Hudson. They will have better ideas on how to go about this, having actually experienced this phenomenon in the past. You need to rest and recover and we both need to stay out of sight for the time being.” Sherlock looked as overwhelmed as John felt.   

Nodding hurriedly, the doctor bookmarked all the sites, closed the laptop and lay back in the bed, spent.  It was something he’d never thought he’d say in a million years but he was actually looking forward to two weeks hidden away in obscurity in the Tower with Sherlock. 

Turning his head to look at his bond mate, he raised his eyebrows and then gestured to the laptop.  Sherlock shook his head, understanding completely what John meant. 

“No, there are no new cases from Lestrade. He has his hands full at the moment cleaning up this last one with Justin and White.  They’ve found the remains of the twins who were killed, plastinated and placed in the ‘gallery’ and possibly Justin’s body in the next room. However, they’ve unexpectedly found another room that had at least 15 other bodies in them. I suspect that that the remains are of the illegal foreigners that he hired to do all the work.  Instead of making them redundant when their usefulness ended, he killed them.”   
  
From what Justin had told John, that statement made sense. The killer had boasted that the only people still alive who had seen his ‘gallery’ were John, White and himself. He’d said the rest were dead. 

Sherlock had continued to speak.  “Hits on my website and your blog have gone up radically due to the coverage by the media and there are hundreds of emails I need to go over. I am hoping there is an interesting case in there somewhere.  

“I fully expect all the excitement to die down shortly, especially if we can stay out of sight.  Your interview with Mr Dean should be the final word on all of this.  We need to make it clear to our omega activist that you want ultimate approval for his article before it’s published. That’s something that we can control, at least.” John nodded in complete agreement. 

“Mycroft has seen to it that we will be able to leave hospital tomorrow morning without an audience. Fewer reporters are hovering outside than before, so I suspect that if we don’t give them fodder for their broadcasts, we should be fine and can get on with our lives.”  
  
John nodded and sighed again. Right now he just wanted to shut down his mind and not think about anything else for the rest of the day. 

The next morning arrived quickly. John found it strangely satisfying to put on his own clothes again for the first time in over a week.  Dr Scott showed up and pronounced John ready to leave with the caveat of taking it easy and getting enough rest.  John’s throat was actually feeling almost normal but he was again warned to go slow and carefully with talking.  Prescriptions were written, final instructions were given, discharge papers signed and he was finally officially released from hospital. 

They made their way down to Mycroft’s car which was parked at the rear of the building.  As the vehicle exited the car park, John noticed a group of journalists milling about the front entrance.  Sitting back, he blew out a sigh of relief that they had managed to avoid them.  

He glanced over at Sherlock, who was texting away on his phone. The alpha looked pensive and a bit bored. “I’ve solved about half a dozen cases this morning alone. Dull. I was hoping for a challenge.  However, there are still over two hundred emails to answer, so there’s some hope yet.”  

John smiled and shook his head in mock despair. It was nice that things were slowly returning to normal after the horrible case with the plastinated people.  He’d have to think long and hard about trying to blog about the whole affair. It would be tough going to write it, even for him, but he knew he would eventually need to do, even though it might never make it to the blog.  It was important to have a record of the events.  One thing his former therapist got right was that expressing himself in words was a cathartic and a healthy way to deal with some of the horror he’d experienced. 

Maybe one day he’d start writing about Afghanistan.  If it allowed him to let go of some of the things he’d gone through, it could only make him a better partner to Sherlock and parent to their children.  Rubbing his hand gently over his now visibly bulging belly, he felt fiercely protective and vowed to always try to do his best.  

He’d never be perfect, but he’d try and if it meant dealing with his nightmares more directly, he would do.  Writing about it all was going to be difficult but he knew it would be worth it if brought him some peace of mind.  It seemed he was certainly going to have plenty of time to write in less than two months!  And he’d have no time at all after the babies were born. Best to do it while he was able. 

John was surprised to feel almost relieved as they pulled up to the Tower. There were no signs of the press as they left the vehicle and entered the lift.   They were met by Hayes, Elliot and Mitchell as they crossed into the reception area. Apparently Sherlock had texted ahead and let them know of their arrival.  

John was pleased to see the other guides. He was somewhat surprised to see Mitchell was still there. They’d not had the chance to continue with the testing and he was keen to talk to both Ailbert and Tom about what he’d managed to do with his empathy.  He had a grim tale to tell and he hoped they could help him understand some things about Justin, as well. 

Moira extended her hand with a sincere smile.  “It’s good to see you both again.  John, I’ve moved you to a larger suite in our newly renovated area since Sherlock will be staying with you. It’s where we put our visitors from other Towers.  If you’ll please follow us?” 

He shot a glance at Sherlock and raised an eyebrow. Going from prisoner to VIP?  That was going to be interesting.  They were led to the lifts and taken to one of the upper floors. The space they were shown was frankly luxurious.  There was a bedroom with a queen sized bed, a large  _en suite_  bathroom, a full kitchen and a lounge area with a television and shelves filled with books. Much different to the guide cell he’d been given earlier and a huge improvement indeed. The place was professionally and attractively decorated with extremely valuable sentinel and guide related objects that had been collected from all over the world. 

“The kitchen is stocked with the basics if you wish to make your own meals. Anything else you would like, you can ask for at the main kitchen or you are welcome to bring in yourself.  You may also go to the cafeteria if you prefer.   

“I’ll have you know that I’ve changed the rules, John. You are still nominally confined to the Tower but you may go anywhere you like unaccompanied.  I know better now than to try to keep you confined anywhere and trust you will stay inside unless there is an emergency.” Moira gave him a wry grin. “Please have Sherlock run any errands outside of the Tower, though.  
  
“I very much appreciate your cooperation in staying in the Tower for the next ten days. Because of your escape, I’ve had some explaining to do to some of my political opponents, but I believe that most of them are now completely satisfied as to your reasons for leaving.  Many of them are well disposed toward you even though they oppose my reforms. 

“Believe it or not, after the Tribunal, I was contacted by quite a few of the older and wealthier sentinel families. Most of them had been sitting on the fence for the last few months when it came to the reforms I’ve been proposing and I’ve had word from them that they are planning to support me based on the compassionate sentence I gave you. The support of these families is overbalancing the weight of my opposition and those who have been acting against my reforms are starting to back off.  So I owe you thanks for that.” 

John raised his eyebrows and exchanged glances of surprise with Sherlock.  Hayes continued. “I suspect that you’ve been avoiding the press, but you need to know that the two of you catching that serial killer and saving those children has been all over the news for almost a solid week. You are being hailed as heroes and the fact that the Wilkes family revealed your name to the press has actually backfired on them.  They had meant to have the press descend on you to make your lives miserable and to dig up dirt on you both but so far that hasn’t happened.  I’m fairly certain that if there is dirt to find, it will be found but there also will be a backlash against anyone who tries to sully your names right now.”   

She gave them a smug look and was clearly suppressing a smile. “I’ve not heard much from the Wilkes family lately.  I understand that they are scrambling to cover some major debts that have been called in as well as dealing with insinuations of irregularities in some of their business dealings. Suddenly there are accusations of tax fraud by the government.  Not to mention the embarrassment brought to them by the actions of Susanne and Sebastian. They’re certainly too busy right now to follow up on persecuting you or hounding me.” 

The Alpha Sentinel Prime lifted a sardonic brow and tilted her head at Sherlock who smiled innocently back at her.  John was astounded and couldn’t wait to quiz Sherlock about what Mycroft and Siger must have been doing the past week. 

“All the fuss will die down eventually and keeping you here and out of sight will help quite a lot, I suspect. In the meantime, I hope you both will take this time to rest and recover from your ordeal.  Dr Brown is available to both of you should you need her services. Please don’t hesitate to go to her for anything.”  

John was glad to know that, but doubted they’d need to see her at this point.  Both he and Sherlock were well on their way to a full recovery.  It was astounding at how quickly his and Sherlock’s injuries had healed. The shallow knife cuts on his alpha’s chest were nearly invisible and the deep stab wound in his arm was just a small, slightly tender pink line.  John’s bruises were fading rapidly, the cuts on his abdomen were almost completely healed and he wasn’t feeling much pain at all from the broken wrist.  
  
Elliot spoke up. “John, if possible, I’d like to continue the testing next week if you feel up to it.  Also, I’ve uncovered some things in the Archives pertaining specifically to omega guides you might want to see. I’ve not gone over much of it yet. Most is in Old English that has some translations into Latin, but I suspect you’ll be very interested.”  
  
John nodded his head eagerly and wrote awkwardly on his pad of paper.  _“That sounds brilliant.”_  

Elliot nodded happily. “I’ll look forward to it, John. I’ll see if we can’t get started sometime next week.”  
  
Everyone left shortly after that to allow John and Sherlock to settle into their temporary home.  The first thing John did was pull his sentinel into a tight embrace. They’d had no time alone for what seemed like weeks at this point and all he wanted to do was soak up Sherlock’s scent and feel his alpha’s arms around him.  The doctor’s omega side was coming more and more to the forefront as he began to fully accept and integrate it into his personality. And at that moment, his inner omega wanted comfort and reassurance from his alpha. 

Sherlock seemed to want the same from John and the doctor willingly gave it.  They made their way to the bedroom and lay together, just absorbing each other’s presence and reconnecting.  Before long, John fell asleep with his head nestled in Sherlock’s shoulder with their arms tight around each other.  It was the first restful sleep John had got since the Tribunal and he desperately needed it. 

They spent the entire weekend in their room, simply being together. There was no need for words since only the sounds of their lovemaking were necessary. They made love to each other many times, each laying equal claim to the other until they were sated, sore and exhausted.  

Monday morning arrived and John woke feeling wonderfully refreshed. Breathing deeply, he stretched hard as his muscles shivered and then relaxed with pleasant indolence and satisfaction.  Sherlock was still deeply asleep, curled up behind him with one arm draped possessively around John’s waist with his hand cupping the omega’s bulging belly.  Even asleep, Sherlock was protecting his unborn children and it gave John a sudden jolt of joy and happiness to know that his alpha would be such an excellent father. 

Remembering that he had an appointment for an interview with Mr Dean in the early afternoon took the edge off his contentment, but it was something that had to be done.  He’d got permission to allow the omega activist into the Tower and arranged the use of one of the meeting rooms downstairs for the interview. 

Easing out of bed, he made for the loo and regretfully washed the evidence of their weekend activities away.  He looked at himself in the mirror and noticed he was definitely showing quite a lot.  The button of his jeans wouldn’t fasten and he could only zip it part way.  Time to get the new clothes he’d bought out now.  Normally, he wouldn’t be showing so much, but with triplets, he was going to be absolutely enormous very quickly.  By the time he was done, dressed, breakfast made and the tea brewed, a yawing Sherlock joined him.    

John was so used to not speaking that he realised he was finally allowed to talk.  Smiling, he said, “Good morning.”  His voice was somewhat rusty from not speaking for so long, but his throat didn’t hurt at all.  

Sherlock grunted a reply and then raised his head, eyebrows arched as he realised that John had spoken.  “It’s good that your voice is back. You sound just fine. How do you feel?”    

“Honestly, I feel fine.  No pain at all. And I can see that you’re pretty much back to normal. It’s rather interesting at how quickly we’ve healed but I’m not going to question it.” 

Sherlock smirked. “It’s all due to clean living, I’m sure.”  John snorted his disbelief and went back to finishing his breakfast.  Once they were done and the dishes clean and put away, Sherlock looked at his watch. 

“I have a number of things that I must do today.  The website has turned up a few mildly interesting cases I’d like to pursue and I need to stop by our flat to pick up a few things, such as your new clothes. I see your trousers no longer fasten properly. Is there anything else I can get for you?” 

John felt a bit crestfallen.  “Oh. I though that maybe you’d come with me to speak to Mr Dean this afternoon.” 

Shaking his head, Sherlock disagreed.  “This interview is about you and that story is only yours to tell. I don’t want to interfere and I wouldn’t want Mr Dean to think I’m adversely influencing you in any way. He’s the type who would think it suspicious if your alpha hovered over you the whole time.  No, it’s best that you do this alone.” 

Thinking about it, John had to reluctantly agree. “I suppose you’re right.  I do hope you’ll be willing to go over the article with me once it’s written, though.  I’d very much value your input.”  

“That won’t be a problem. Do you need anything from the flat?” Sherlock asked again. 

“Like you said, my new clothes and tea, I think.  Some milk, too, if you can get in some shopping.  Good luck and I’ll see you later today.”  Sherlock gave John a quick kiss and was out the door.   
  
Sighing, John readied himself for the day. The appointment with Dean wasn’t until early afternoon, so he made his way to the Archives where Elliot had told him he’d leave the information about omega guides for him to read.   The archivist on duty gave him a large box, a pad of paper and a pencil and shooed him off to one of the tables.  
  
Inside the box were numerous digital scans of what appeared to be pages of a small book. John began to go through the scans carefully.  The book had been hand written in black ink on parchment. The scans were so detailed he could see the delicate veining and pores from the hair follicles of the parchment.   

Drawings and ink wash paintings illustrated some of the pages but he didn’t know yet how they related to the text.  The images were of medieval people doing a variety of tasks.  One of was of a clearly pregnant omega male with many children surrounding him and a taller male beside him.  John guessed they might be an alpha sentinel and omega guide.  Another drawing which caught his interest showed a guide working with someone who appeared injured.  

The words were in Old English and he had very little idea of what they meant though some of the words looked familiar. There were photocopies of a Latin translation that had been made in the 19th century. Someone had started a translation of the Latin, but had only got as far as the first few pages.  They said very little about omega guides and mostly seemed to reference life in a clan.  John wrote down a few words of the Old English that looked like they might refer to the subject he was interested in and then asked to use the computer. 

Moira had lifted his restrictions on internet usage and he called up a few free translation sites.  Plugging in the words, he found that it wasn’t very exact but he could get a gist of what had been written.   

Alpha and Omega were the first and last letters of the Greek alphabet and sometimes used to mean the beginning and end.   John wondered if the Old English references to alpha and omega sexes had a similar meaning and it seemed that it did.  After working for a while, it became apparent to him that it was going to be slow going to decipher what was written but he felt optimistic that he would eventually figure it out.  

Sherlock might know of an expert in the language that he could consult, as well.  He’d have to ask Elliot if these reproductions were allowed to be removed from the Tower. Something made him think that it would not be allowed but there were ways around that.

Checking his watch, John only had a few minutes before he was to meet Dean downstairs.  He put away the scans and returned the box to the archivist before heading to the ground floor of the Tower.  

He waited in the newly redecorated reception area and marvelled at how much had changed in such a short time. The room was very welcoming and a hive of activity.  He watched with amusement as another group of prospective guides was shown through the displays describing potential career choices. They were all so young and excited to be there.  John couldn’t help but shake his head in wonder at the changes wrought by Moira. 

It was then that he realised he’d not encountered even one unbonded sentinel in the entire time he’d been in the Tower.  Were they segregated to another part of the building and kept away from the new guides? That must be what was happening. Moira had promised no more forced bonding and John was very pleased to see that she was keeping her word. Apparently there was to be no accidental bonding, either. 

His attention was drawn by the opening lift doors from the car park.  The omega activist approached the reception desk where John met him with an outstretched hand and a smile.  

“It’s good to see you again, Mr Dean. Thank you for meeting me here.” 

John’s smile and handshake were returned with enthusiasm.  “Please, call me Charles. And thank you for agreeing to talk to me, Dr Watson.”

“And my name is John.  Sherlock and I were extremely grateful to you that you kept my name to yourself when I know you could have had quite a scoop at the time.  Because of that, you were the first person I thought to contact when everything hit the fan and my name was released to the press. We would really prefer to have accurate information out there instead of all this speculation and want to curtail any attempts at digging up dirt or fabrications.”  

Dean nodded.  “That’s what I’m here for, then. Shall we get started?” 

John gestured to the receptionist at the desk. “Let’s get you checked in.”  

A few minutes later, they were shown to a comfortable meeting room with a small table and chairs. It was well stocked with fresh coffee or tea as well as chilled bottled water.  John was rather surprised but pleased by the thoughtfulness on the part of the Tower personnel. 

Once they were settled and Dean took out his notepad and recorder, John held up a hand.  

“Before we start, I’d like to leave the names of my family members out of this if at all possible. My mum and sister were harassed early on but it’s now dying down and I want to keep it that way.”   
  
John had spent a fair amount of time listening to his mother’s complaints ever since the Wilkes family had leaked his name.  She had been shocked and surprised at the attention from the press, but had actually been dealing with it and had learnt that “no comment” worked surprisingly well.  It also helped that she was currently staying at Grand-maman Holmes’ townhouse in London and was difficult to reach.  Harry had had a tougher time because she couldn’t leave work but she was also bearing up well.  Clara had been left out of it altogether, thankfully.

Writing a few notes down, Dean agreed without hesitation.  “I completely understand and want you to know that I consider this a privilege to interview you and will not abuse this opportunity. We have a chance to make history here and possibly change lives for the better and I want that more than I can say. Ready?”  

It turned out that Charles Dean was an excellent interviewer and a true journalist, unlike most of the ones in the popular media.  He made John feel relaxed and comfortable and willingly shared personal information about himself that related directly to the subjects being discussed as the interview progressed.  His insightful questions helped John open up more and made his recollections clearer. 

The interview ended up being more of a personal conversation between two people with very similar outlooks but very different experiences in life.  John found himself fascinated to hear about how his life was different to Dean’s but at the same time so alike.   It seemed that he’d finally found someone who understood what and why he’d gone through in his life and it was a pleasant experience.   

They began to wrap up the interview when Dean asked, “If you had one thing to say to a young omega, what would it be?”  

John didn’t even have to think about it.  “I’d say that, if you know what you want to do with your life, don’t let anyone or anything hold you back.  Society is changing and there’s no need to stay within traditional roles.  I know not everyone is as fortunate as I’ve been or have the support from family that I had, but if they want something, then don’t be afraid to work toward it.  Anything that’s worth having is worth fighting for.” 

John thought sadly for a moment about Michael Justin and added, “Also, if there is someone out there who is an omega guide and is hiding it like I did, I want them to know that there is help. If they’re afraid to let anyone know what they are, I hope they will please contact me.  I can give you an email address or they can write to me through my blog.  But they need to know that they’re not alone.” 

Charles scribbled on his notepad and nodded excitedly. “That’s wonderful!  I’d be more than happy to pass that along for you.  I’d recommend getting a new email address specifically for this, though. I hate to think of how much email you’ll have  and how much time it will take for you to weed through them.”

Thinking of how he was going to be spending a lot of time confined to home and his bed in a few months, John’s expression turned amused. “I expect that won’t be too much of a problem soon.  I’m expecting triplets and will have to reduce a lot of my physical activity. I’ll have nothing but time on my hands after the fifth month.”  
  
The omega activist looked up at him with his eyebrows arched in shock and then grinned. “I am guessing you don’t want that information in the article.” 

Laughing, he responded, “No, thanks.  I’d rather that not get around, if you don’t mind.”  John had to grin back as Dean shook his head in wonderment. 

“When I hear things like that, I’m very glad I’m not bonded yet. I can’t begin to imagine raising even one child with my job, let alone three at once!” 

Chuckling, John agreed.  “I never thought I’d ever do it either. I fully expected to go through life without a bond mate and childless.  But then I fell in love and then things happened that I never expected.  If you ever find the right alpha for you, you’ll know what I mean.”  

The blush that spread across the omega activist’s face told John that Dean may have found someone already but he wasn’t going to push it. 

Turning off his recorder, Dean sat back and stretched. John checked the time and was surprised to see that three hours had gone by while they’d talked.  It hadn’t seemed that long at all and rather than feeling drained, he felt like he’d been energised.  It had been a very successful and satisfying experience and he told Dean that as they stood and shook hands. 

“Thank you, John.  That means a lot to me and I feel the same.  No one can truly understand us but another omega and I can tell you’ve never really had the chance to talk about this to someone who has been through it all.  I’m glad to have had this opportunity and can’t thank you enough.”  

John smiled. “It’s been my pleasure.  I’ll send you that email address as soon as I’ve created it. I also appreciate you allowing me to see the article before you publish and giving me rights to veto anything I find objectionable.”  Dean had been very willing to do whatever John wanted and he knew how rare that must be in journalism so he was accordingly grateful.   
  
With that, John showed Dean out to the reception area and off to the lifts.  He was sad to see the journalist leave as he had very much enjoyed his company. Dean was correct that John had rarely been able to spend much time with other omegas.  He realised he would like to have the man as a friend when everything was said and done.  As he headed back to his room, John wondered if he should invite the journalist to their bonding ceremony. 

That reminded him that he needed to discuss changing the date with his mum.  He’d been so busy reconnecting with Sherlock that weekend that he’d sadly neglected her.  His mobile had been returned to him and he rang her as he began to fix some dinner for himself and Sherlock. He wasn’t sure how long the detective would be gone so he made something easy to warm up for later. 

His mum was thrilled to hear his voice and they spent some time catching up.  When he told her they were expecting triplets instead of twins, he received a shocked silence on the other end of the phone and then a squeal of joy so loud he had to pull the mobile away from his ear for a moment.  He could hear her turn to Grand-maman Holmes and Monique to deliver the news. Then she was back, breathless with excitement. 

“Triplets! Oh my god! You’ll need me to move in sooner because you’ll not be able to do anything for yourself after a while. So much to do! And of course we’ll move the ceremony up one month exactly and Fabienne says we can have it here. She’s got a lovely garden behind her home that has plenty of room for everyone.  The house is large enough inside for a reception, too. This will work out splendidly, luv.  I’ll give Harry and Clara a ring and I suggest you contact your tailor as soon as you can.”  
  
It was excellent advice which he took immediately.  Andre asked him to come in for a fitting in three weeks and he readily agreed.  John was very grateful that his family was handling the rest of the bonding ceremony because the thought of having to arrange for anything else exhausted him.  

However, John did remember to ring Starr and let her know of the time change.  When she asked him why, he explained and then had to listen to her laughing so hard she nearly choked.  Finally, after she calmed down, she told him that with the change in the date, Murray would be available to come as well.  John was thrilled and asked her to extend an invitation to him. Murray had saved his life and having him at his bonding ceremony and inviting them all to meet his family would make it all the more meaningful. 

Sherlock arrived back at the Tower after John had gone to sleep that night and left again before John was ready to get up.  He gave Sherlock a bleary kiss and embrace as the detective was leaving and went back to bed.  Whatever cases the detective was working on must be very interesting but John was glad he didn’t have to get up. He was still healing from the battering he’d taken from White and Justin and needed his sleep.   

He spent the early part of the week resting and reading about guides and guide lore in the Archives.  It was actually very interesting to learn about the history of the Towers while he waited to hear from Elliot about continuing the testing of his empathy. He wondered if the new guides were getting this kind of information as well. 

However, the older guide didn’t have time to meet with John until the end of the week.  The number of new guides coming in had been much more than they’d ever anticipated and the London Tower guides were frankly overwhelmed.  John was told that other guides from nearby Towers had been asked to come in to help with the testing, which was apparently unprecedented.  

Missing Sherlock, John spent hours in the Archive and busied himself in trying to translate the Old English, finding it easier than the Latin but still difficult.  It brought home to him how rusty he was with his grammar and had to spend a number of hours reminding himself of the rules. It took a while to get the terms straight and he knew that getting a perfect translation was going to be beyond him but he hoped to be able to get the gist of the narrative.  

He had found that omega guide seemed to be translated as something like teacher/pilot/ child bearer.  The alpha sentinel was referred to often as a leader/guardian with frequent references to virility and fertility. It didn’t seem to matter whether the couple was same sex or opposite sex.  He encountered words also that seemed to give warnings or cautions about something but he couldn’t find a proper meaning of the words at any of the translation websites.  This section of the book seemed to be associated with the drawing of the pregnant omega guide, his alpha and numerous children.  

The section with the drawing of the omega guide treating an injury was more easily translated. It seemed that there was an enhanced healing ability between close omega guides and alpha sentinels, which was very useful in times of war.  John had no trouble believing it because he and Sherlock had healed much more quickly than he’d ever suspected possible after their battle with Justin and White. 

He still had trouble figuring out the warning, though. One online site he found offered, for a fee, to give a professional translation.  He dithered for a few moments before he pulled out his credit card, typed in the information to be translated and clicked send.  Hopefully, the translation would be in his email in a few days.   The archivist never noticed what he was doing, thankfully.  Deciding he’d done enough for the day, he packed up and left.   
  
Sherlock had texted him that he wouldn’t be back until late again so he headed down to the cafeteria for dinner.  There were a wide variety of things to choose from but John decided to stick to salad and vegetable soup.  A balanced diet was very important right now but he also wanted to start watching what he ate. 

He’d been gaining weight steadily since he’d begun to take the medication for morning sickness and none of his everyday trousers fit any longer.  He knew his hips would start to widen at some point but that wasn’t to happen until he was ready to deliver. Right now he could no longer fasten his jeans and was thankful for the new clothes that Sherlock had brought him from home and the jumpers that covered his waist line.

It was a bit early for dinner but he was looking forward to the relative quiet of the cafeteria as he settled down to enjoy his meal.  However, this time there were a fair number of young, prospective guides seated at nearby tables talking animatedly amongst themselves.  It was lovely to see younger people and he wondered how different his life would have been if the laws and society had been more accepting of omegas and guides chosing their own careers when he was their age.  

He’d brought his notes with him and read over them as he ate. Some of the words he’d translated had multiple meanings and he tried each one in the bare bones sentences until they began to make more sense.  When the professional translations arrived, he’d be curious how they compared to what he was trying to decipher. 

After finishing his meal, he kept working instead of going back to the room. It was a fascinating exercise and he was so wrapped up in it, he didn’t notice right away when a few of the young people he’d seen before came to his table and sat down. One of them had to clear her throat before he looked up, startled.  

Three very young betas were seated across from him, looking at him with awe and wonder. None of them looked older than twenty. He stared back at them, eyebrows raised until the young woman who had cleared her throat abruptly thrust out her hand. 

“Hi! I’m Cheryl.”  She gestured to her friends.  “This is Beth and Eric. We’re hoping to be guides.  Are you Dr Watson?”  She said it all rather breathlessly and somewhat hesitantly as if she suddenly realised they were all being rather forward.   

John shook her hand and tried not to smile at her awkwardness. “Yes, I’m John Watson. Nice to meet you. What can I do for you?” 

The young people all grinned at each other and shifted a bit closer to each other on the bench seat.  Cheryl looked thrilled and overwhelmed at the same time.  “I… we all just wanted to say hello and….” She hesitated again and Eric picked up her train of thought.  
  
“We all saw you on the telly and thought what you did was amazing, Dr Watson.  We wanted to let you know that if it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t have dared to come here.”  
  
John was flabbergasted.  “What did I do?”  
  
They all exchanged looks and Cheryl spoke. “As an omega and a guide, you fought for your rights and the Tower backed down.  You took what you wanted and made them respect you.  My friends and I knew we were guides from the time we were little but we were all afraid to go to the Tower because we didn’t want to be forced to bond with someone we didn’t know.” 

Beth chimed in. “But once we saw your press conference with Alpha Sentinel Prime Hayes where you said you thought her ideas were brilliant, we decided to come in to be tested. We knew that we could believe what you had to say about the new programmes and so we applied. Our parents weren’t too happy about it and it took a while to get our applications approved, but here we are!  We’re ever so excited!  Our appointments are this afternoon.  Do you think we have a chance?”

Surprised, John sat back and looked over the trio. They were energized at the opportunity to be guides. At their age, he would have been terrified to be in their position.  John smiled and shook his head at the incredible change he was seeing in such a short span of time.  

“I’ve not got much training yet, but I’ll try to see if I can tell if you’re guides.”  He extended his empathy toward them and suddenly he was seeing all three differently. There was a glow around each young person and he blinked at them in surprise.  Beth’s ‘glow’ was quite strong, while both Eric and Cheryl’s were just slightly less bright.  Maybe it had to do with strength of their empathic abilities, if that was what he was actually seeing.  He blinked and his normal sight returned as he withdrew his empathy. 

“Don’t get your hopes up too much, but I think you are all potential guides. I have no idea how strong your empathy is but I’m pretty certain I can sense it in all of you.”  
  
All three grinned excitedly and Cheryl spoke. “Thanks, Dr Watson. That’s brilliant news!”  She tapped her watch and stood. “I’m sorry, but we have to go now.  I hope we’ll see you again to let you know how it works out. Thanks!”  

“Good luck to you all,” John added as they left the cafeteria with a wave. He shook his head and smiled at the thought of their excited faces.  Things were certainly different and he was very glad of the change.  

The days passed quickly as John kept himself busy.  Sherlock spent every night with him but was out most days.  He didn’t say what he was doing and John didn’t ask.  If Sherlock wanted him to help with the case or cases he was working on, he would have said something by now.   

The alpha did take John to his appointment with Dr Fulton in the middle of the week.  Everything was fine and the obstetrician was very pleased with both John’s and the babies’ progress.   

Another ultrasound was performed and once again confirmed there were triplets on the way. John was grateful they didn’t find any more babies hiding inside him.  It was his luck that he’d suddenly have six or something absurd like that, but thankfully there were ‘just’ the three. 

The fact he was having triplets was still not quite real and he kept staring at the most recent sonogram. He was relieved to see the third baby wasn’t actually smaller than the others. The placement was just different.  They made an appointment to see Dr Fulton again in another two weeks, which was rather soon but the obstetrician wanted to be cautious.  

“You’re no spring chicken, John, and I want to keep an eye on your kidney functions as you progress with this pregnancy.  Thankfully, you’re also a doctor and you know what to look for and I expect you to contact me if you have any problems with anything.”  
  
John agreed quickly and then reminded Dr Fulton that the bonding ceremony had been changed in location and date. 

The obstetrician thought that it was best to move the date up. “You’ll likely be in no shape to do much after 20 weeks, so yes that is a very good decision. You’re actually in excellent health and I think you’ll be fine, but it’s always best to be careful in a situation like this.”  

Back at the Tower, Sherlock prepared some lunch while John looked online at things they needed to start acquiring before the babies arrived.  Both John’s mother, Mrs Hudson and Grand-maman Holmes had sent suggestions on what they’d need and none of them had duplicated their lists. The amount of stuff they needed to buy was enormous and John decided he’d put off purchasing anything until they were back home and had a chance to talk more about buying a larger flat.   

Later that day, Dean sent John an email with a draft of the article he wanted to publish. He and Sherlock both went over it carefully and could find no fault with it.  John sent the new email address he’d created with his return note and the approval for the article. 

Dean promised he wouldn’t allow the piece to be published if the editors changed too much of it. Apparently  _The Guardian_  was very interested in the article and they were going to allow Dean more editorial flexibility than usual. The omega activist intended to use that to his advantage to get the article published with minimal editorial interference.  The plan was to have it come out in the following Sunday edition of  _The Observer_  and included in  _The Guardian Weekly_  after that.  It would be published online, as well. All of that was fine with John and he made sure Dean knew he agreed.   

Finally Elliot and Mitchell had an afternoon free late in the week and John joined them in Elliot’s office. While the visit was ostensibly to continue testing him, the doctor also wanted to have the chance to talk to them about Justin.  

Since his escape and the showdown with Justin, John had hoped to come to some understanding about what had happened.  He also wanted to reveal to Tom and Ailbert what he could really do with his empathy.  The two Tower guides had been completely honest with him from the beginning and John didn’t want to hide his abilities from them any longer. 

After they’d settled in their chairs and Tom had a chance to serve some tea, Mitchell gave him a worried look.  “John, I can see that you have a lot on your mind.  Before we start the testing again, do you want to tell us what it is you’re concerned about?” 

John gave them a half smile and rubbed his forehead.  He’d been thinking about what he’d wanted to tell Tom and Ailbert for days and now he had the chance, he wasn’t completely sure how to begin.  

“Yes, I hoped you’d be willing to let me to talk to you about what happened with Justin.  I saw some things… awful, horrible things that he had done and wasn’t sure what to make of it all.” 

Without hesitation, both men agreed to listen and haltingly, John began to speak.  First, he revealed how he had discovered that Justin was also an omega guide. Their reactions of shock and sadness at the incredible waste of such a special life mirrored his own.  He then told them that the killer had wanted to take Sherlock from him and the way he’d planned to use his empathy to do it.  Both men paled at the obscene and twisted way Justin had used his guide abilities to hurt others and to get what he wanted. 

Elliot was distressed. “I’m so glad Moira has encouraged the Towers to change their policy toward guides, especially omega guides. I suspect that Michael hid what he was for the same reasons you did, John.  But while you chose to spend your life helping others, he ended up hurting people with his empathy. It just goes to show how dangerous it can be to have an untrained empath out there who is completely amoral. I shudder to think of the damage you could have done if you’d chosen a different path, John.”   
  
The quote  _‘_ There but for the grace of God, go I,’ had been in John’s thoughts since the confrontation with Justin.  Thankfully, John’s upbringing was very different to Justin’s and that was where the direction of their lives no doubt diverged.  Sighing, the doctor agreed without reservation. “For that very reason, I’d like to arrange for training whenever it’s possible.” 

“I’m willing to work with you as soon as we get classes started for the new guide candidates.  Next week we’ll begin training the young ones and you’re more than welcome to sit in on the sessions.  We have so many new guides incoming that Ailbert and his sentinel will be moving down here permanently to begin tutoring them.  I might even ask you to help with some of the sessions on empathic shields, if you're willing.”  Elliot looked very excited and eager at the chance to shape a new generation of guides.

Thinking about it seriously, John replied, “I’d be glad to help however I can. It sounds like you’ve got your hands full right now. Just let me know what to do and I’ll be there.” 

Elliot and Mitchell then encouraged John to continue his narration of what occurred that awful day. Both guides were shocked and horrified to learn what the killer had tried to do to Sherlock and John.  They had known what he was capable of since Elliot had seen what Justin had done to Mr Hopewell but no one had guessed the full extent of it. 

John described what he’d tried to do to stop Justin but it had been totally ineffective and that Justin’s empathy hadn’t worked on John either. Neither Elliot nor Mitchell had any answers for him, however.  

“I’ve never heard of such a thing before, John. I wonder if there might be an answer somewhere in the Archives.  You’ve got the scanned copy of the oldest book relating to omega guides but there is one other with some mentions that I’ll arrange for you to see.  It’s from the 18th century, called  _Guides and their Sentinels_  and should be easier to read.  I believe it’s a compilation of earlier, lost volumes.  Maybe there will be something about it in there if you don’t find anything in the older one.”  
  
”I’m not even halfway finished with what you’ve already given me but I’ve found a few passages that seem to relate specifically to omega guides that I’m trying to translate.  I’ll be sure to let you know what I find.”  
  
”That sounds wonderful, John. Thank you.  Now do you have anything else you’d like to talk about before we start the testing again?’ 

Nervously, John fidgeted in his seat.  “Well, yes, actually.  There is something else that I’d like to mention before we get started on the tests.  I’ve been holding back on you somewhat in regards to my abilities.”  
  
Tom frowned at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”  
  
John ducked his head in embarrassment. “I neglected to mention something that I was taught to do before I came here. Also, I picked up something from you both that I need to demonstrate. Let me show you.”  
  
Picking up a scrap of paper, John balled it up in his right hand and then opened his fist, displaying the paper sitting in the middle of his palm.  Placing his open hand in the centre of the table but far away from anything else that might be combustible, he concentrated as the other two guides watched with expressions of puzzlement and curiosity. 

After a few seconds, the paper burst into a bright flame.  Both Elliot and Mitchell gasped and jerked back quickly in shock. 

“Watch out, John! You’ll be burnt!” Tom picked up his mug of tea to throw on the doctor’s hand.

John quickly stopped him. ”No! Don’t put it out. It won’t hurt me. Just watch.”   
  
The two guides stared at the flames in increasing awe as the paper quickly burnt itself out in John’s palm.  He carefully dumped the ashes on the table and glanced up at them, his eyes wide in apprehension at what their reaction might be. 

Speechless, Elliot and Mitchell stared in wonder and disbelief at John, who begins to get nervous.  

Finally Tom whispered in amazement.  “You actually mastered creating fire with your empathy?  I don’t know of anyone being able to do that for centuries, John.  That’s incredible! It’s astounding!” 

The doctor could feel a blush creep across his face and belatedly realised how Sherlock must feel when John praised him.   

“It’s not that difficult. Once you did that adjustment to my empathy, it was simple.  There’s something else I was taught to do that I’d like to show you but it takes a lot of energy so it might not work.  But my previous tutor taught me how to become hidden for a short period of time and it was very useful in the field.  Last time I tried it I was able to hide from Tower Protectors who had been sent to track me.  Sherlock had to help feed me energy though, or I would have been caught.  Would you like me to try it?”  
  
The response was an enthusiastic ‘yes!’ from both Tom and Ailbert. “It might not work as well if you know that I’m actually here, but we’ll see what happens.”  
  
Because of the alteration Elliot had done to his empathy, it was much easier this time to visualise his absence in the room than it had been all those months ago at the train station.  He closed his eyes, concentrated and within a few moments he heard exclamations of surprise and fright from the two guides. 

Tom’s voice sounded strained. “John, you’ve gone. How can this be? You’ve disappeared! This is beyond incredible—it’s impossible!”  

John opened his eyes and stopped what he was doing immediately.  He watched as Elliot and Mitchell started in surprise at his reappearance and couldn’t help keeping a slight grin from his face. He was tired from the short demonstration but nowhere near as tired as he’d been the first time he’d attempted it. 

After their initial fright, the two Tower guides relaxed and smiled back in relief.  Tom finally spoke. “I honestly have never seen anything like that, John.  Would you be willing to try to recreate it but with the both of us ‘listening in’ as you do it?  Having these skills and being able to pass them along to others would be invaluable! But you’ll have to lower your shields like you did at the Tribunal so we can sense what you’re doing.  ” 

Readily agreeing, John lowered his shields. Tom reached out and lightly encircled John’s wrist with his hand and the doctor could feel the older guide’s comforting presence in his mind.  Then he could feel Ailbert’s empathy reach out to him and he was ready.  

Repeating what he’d just done, he could tell that the other two guides were following along with what he was doing.  It took a lot more energy this time but he knew he’d accomplished it by the looks of wonder on their faces.   
  
Elliot shook his head in admiration. “I could follow along with what you were doing so easily and it made sense, but I don’t know if I could ever do that. Ailbert?” 

The Scottish guide was equally astonished.  “I think I could do but I’ll have to really work at it with my sentinel nearby. Let’s try the fire trick now.”  
  
Again, John created fire with his empathy and this time both Tower guides were eager to try it.  Mitchell was able to create fire fairly quickly but Elliot had to work at it to the point where he almost exhausted himself, but he finally succeeded.  
  
Flushed with success and fatigue, they all looked at each other and laughed in delight.  “This is indescribable, John. Thank you so much for sharing this! We should be able to teach others these lost talents, as well.”  Elliot was practically bursting with excitement.

Mitchell chimed in.  “I know we were supposed to continue to test you today, John, but I think all of us are too tired to do any more work. All I know is that you’re a much stronger empath than I am and I don’t think I’m qualified to really determine your rating.  

“You’re definitely over 20 on the scale, but just how far over you are is impossible for me to tell.  I’ll have to speak with the other guides who are of my rating and there are only a few.  I believe we’ll have to create a new rating just for you.”  The guide was smiling at John’s expression of amazement as he spoke. 

Their meeting broke up shortly afterwards with a promise from Tom to inform John about the guide classes starting the following week.  John headed back over to the Archives to continue translating while Mitchell and Elliot returned to preparing lesson plans for their new guide recruits.  Elliot had promised to call over to the archivist to give John access to the book on guides he’d mentioned earlier. 

John was tired but curious to see if there was any information about the empathy of two omega guides possibly neutralising the other.  It would be fascinating to see if he could find anything out about that. 

The book Elliot had mentioned was waiting for him and he immediately began to search for omega guides.  It took some time, but John was excited to find a chapter about the abilities of omega guides. There was a mention of unusual omega guides whose talents could balance and cancel each other out.  These guides specialised in differing empathic abilities.  One guide’s talents could encompass the mind while the other specialised in the physical world.  

John sat back, satisfied he’d found the answer. The book described both himself and Justin. John’s talents seemed to work best on material things and Justin’s had worked best on the mind. According to the book, the omega guides could work together to defend and protect not only their sentinels, but others, as well.  The author indicated that when combined, the two different omega guide’s abilities were enhanced but when in conflict, they would negate each other.  

Apparently, the combination of two opposite omega guides was exceedingly rare. Saddened at the thought of what could have been if only Justin hadn’t been completely insane, John set aside the book and checked his watch.  There was still some time before Sherlock returned and he could continue with his translations of the older book.  

As he worked through the scans, he returned again to the mysterious section that was associated with the drawing of the pregnant omega, his children and his alpha.  He’d not yet received a response to his previous translation request and wondered if he ought to follow up with a note to enquire how much longer he would need to wait.  What he was deciphering didn’t make a lot of sense but it worried him somewhat and he hoped for answers. 

He wasn’t completely certain but it seemed to be a warning to omega guides not to use their empathy while expecting.  It was a concern to him because he’d been using his empathy rather consistently since he’d become pregnant. The reason for the warning and the meanings of the words used were unclear but most of them seemed to it indicate something about awareness in the children. ‘Knowing’ and ‘cognisant’ were also possible translations but he was unsure what that meant in relation to the children.  

Did it mean they tended to be more intelligent?   But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He expected that his and Sherlock’s children would most likely have a genius level intelligence.  The thought was rather intimidating because he wasn’t sure he had what it took to raise genius children.  But this book was suggesting that the use of his empathy during pregnancy would affect the children somehow and not knowing exactly how they could be affected was bothering him.  
  
But people thought all sorts of strange things in those days. Belief in maternal impressions was just one odd idea that was common even to the 20th century. So maybe this warning was an ‘old wives tale’ for omega guides? He decided he would refuse to worry about it but would search for corroborating information as soon as possible. 

Tired from the day, he stretched and groaned, then put away all the papers and gave them to the archivist.  By the time he’d returned to their room, Sherlock was back and in the middle of preparing dinner again.   
  
Sherlock was an excellent cook, which had shocked John when he’d first learnt of it.  Though he shouldn’t have been surprised, considering that Sherlock had excelled in chemistry.  As they ate a meal that was worthy of Angelo’s at his best, John told Sherlock of his experience with the Tom and Ailbert and what he’d found in the Archives concerning omega guides. 

Sherlock appeared fascinated by the thought of ‘opposite’ omega guides. “I wonder what would happen if you and Justin could have worked together rather than been in conflict. Considering how rare you are, it’s unlikely we’ll ever know for sure.”  

Again, John felt sadness at lost possibilities. “Well, maybe there will be another omega guide out there somewhere who isn’t certifiable.  You never know.”  Sherlock snorted sceptically and dropped the subject. 

Their last weekend in the Tower passed quickly. John enjoyed spending quality time with Sherlock, waking late, fixing a light breakfast and walking the grounds for exercise. Dean’s article about him came out in  _The Observer_  that Sunday and John couldn’t find any fault with it.  It was truthful and well written, showcasing Dean’s talents as a journalist and using John’s many and impressive accomplishments to build a convincing case for full rights for omegas and guides.  

John suspected there would be some interesting repercussions to the article when all was said and done. In the meantime, he was going to wait a while before checking his new email account.  He wasn’t sure what he’d find and hoped there wouldn’t be a lot of hate mail. 

In the afternoon, he visited the Archives and continued to research omega guides and guide lore in general.  He was getting a bit better at the language in the book but was still waiting for the professional translation. 

He got a response early the following week.  The second part of the requested translation was different to what he’d expected.  It was definitely a warning but it wasn’t exactly clear what it meant.  It said,  _‘The children born to the teacher/guide/bearer who uses their abilities during gestation risks early awakening of the offspring/child.’_   What ‘early awakening’ might be was the real question.  Whatever it was, it didn’t sound bad or frightening, so John shrugged and decided not to worry about it. 

He had only five days left in his confinement.  Sherlock was still gone nearly every day and didn’t bother to explain what he was doing though he seemed physically tired when he returned in the evenings. John would hear him muttering “Dull, dull, dull!” as he flipped through and deleted his email while stretched out on the sofa.  

“No interesting cases yet? I thought you had hundreds of emails.”  John hid his smile at the unhappy look on his bond mate’s face.

”Nothing! There were a few possibilities but I was able to solve them immediately by email.  Most of these seem to be proposals for bonding or disgustingly gushing fan letters.” The alpha’s nose crinkled in disdain.  “I had been hoping our notoriety had died down, but with the newspaper article now published, that does not seem to be the case.”  

“What about Lestrade?  The papers were hinting at some mysterious murders in Croyden.”  
  
Sherlock sniffed. “Boring. Anyway, those murders were assigned to Dimmock and he’s not approached me.”  
  
John frowned. “Since when has that ever stopped you?”  
  
The alpha looked a bit uncomfortable. “I prefer to wait until he comes begging. Anyway, I’ve been busy doing other things.”  
  
John shrugged and dropped the subject.  He could tell Sherlock was being slightly evasive with him but it didn’t seem to be very important to pursue it.  Whatever Sherlock was doing during the day wasn’t something he was ready to discuss yet, so John let it lie. 

The doctor went back to reading the printouts he’d been given by Elliot that afternoon.  John had sat in on his first guide classes that day and had been spellbound.   Guide history and lore had been the presentation in the morning and then practical use of empathy had been the subject in the afternoon.  The three young guides John had encountered in the cafeteria had been in the classes as well and had waved discreetly to him when he’d entered the room. He was very happy to see they’d been accepted to the new programme. 

The classroom had been completely full that morning and John had taken a chair in the back of the room. He sat beside some other adults who turned out to be parents of some of the new guide applicants.  They were a bit nervous at first but relaxed as the lesson progressed and they could see what their children were learning.  None of them returned for the afternoon session which John took as a good sign that the parents were pleased. It also meant that John had the back of the theatre to himself. 

Elliot was an excellent instructor and clearly thrilled to have so many new guides to train.  The older man’s enthusiasm was infectious and John found himself wishing he’d been able to take classes like this when he was younger.

The history of guides and guide lore was absolutely fascinating and though he knew some of it already from his readings, having it presented in such a way had him wanting to know more and sorry when the lesson came to an end.   There was a considerable amount of class participation from the new students, too, which was sometimes unintentionally hilarious when Elliot gently corrected some very odd assumptions the young people had about sentinels and guides.  

The class in the afternoon focused on the sentinel and guide pairings and how a guide’s empathy could be used to support and balance a sentinel’s enhanced senses.  It was clear to John that the subject of how sentinels and guides chose each other and how actual bonding was accomplished was very much on the minds of the new guides.  He could pick up some uncertainty and trepidation from some but most were curious and eager to learn more.  
  
Overall, it was an incredibly successful experience and left everyone feeling energised and excited, ready for the next lessons. John congratulated Tom after the last session was over. 

Elliot was practically vibrating with energy and enthusiasm.  “What did you think, John? Do you think the students liked the presentations?”  

“It seemed to me that every last student was totally captivated by your lessons.  I learnt more this afternoon than I had in the last twenty years. Thanks for letting me sit in. May I come by to audit some others?”  John was very curious about what else would be discussed. 

“You’re very welcome to attend as long as you want, John. Here’s some of the research I’ve compiled to compliment the next lessons.  Feel free to join in on the class discussions if you like, too. I’d very much appreciate your input.”  
  
John had taken the information with him and spent an enjoyable evening reading a well written and concise history of guides in England and Europe while Sherlock muttered over his emails.  The whole thing felt very domestic and he would have been blissfully happy if only they had been at their Baker Street flat. 

That reminded him again that he and Sherlock seriously needed to discuss finding a larger home. The more he thought about it, the more he realised they had to leave their flat.  It made him sad to think of it, but he had to face reality. There simply wasn’t enough room for them both and three babies. Plus it seemed his mother planned to move in with them, at least temporarily. He knew he would need her help and was grateful she was willing to give it. 

But as much as he dearly loved his mother, he didn’t think he could stand to have her share such a small space with him and Sherlock.  He worried that being in such close quarters with her might cause too much stress and he would never want that to happen.  He’d almost rather have a nanny or two instead of risking a row with Mum. 

Glancing over at his bond mate, he shook his head and hid his grin.  Sherlock was stretched out on the sofa and had been running a hand through his hair as he read and deleted emails, all the while cursing the idiocy of the average Briton. The detective looked deranged with his hair a mess and John couldn’t help but feel a wave of fondness and love for his alpha.  The man was completely insane but he wouldn’t have him any other way. 

The rest of the week went by quickly and before he knew it, they were packing and preparing to return to Baker Street.  Sherlock had corralled a young Protector into helping carry things down to the car and had disappeared into the lifts, leaving John to go through the rooms one last time to make sure they’d left nothing important.  He felt almost as if he were checking out of a hotel room. 

As he finished his sweep of the rooms, Moira entered and greeted him warmly.

”I can see you’re very eager to get home but I wanted to speak to you and Sherlock before you left.  I appreciate your cooperation with me about your punishment, John. I want you to know that I’m in your debt and the article in  _The Observer_  was the icing on the cake. Your presence here and your support of my proposals have given me a considerable amount of political capital with my opponents that I can use to further my plans for the modernisation of the Towers.  If there is ever anything I can do for you in future, you simply have to ask.” 

Surprised, John blinked at her for a moment.  “Thank you. I appreciate that very much.”  He then had a thought. “Are you and James by chance licensed to do bondings?”    Traditional bonding ceremonies were carried out by another bonded pair who had been licensed to officiate by the government. 

“Why, yes we are. Why do you ask?”  
  
”I need to check with Sherlock, but it just occurred to me that we’ve not got an official to preside over our bonding ceremony yet. It’s being held toward the end of March and if you’re free, I’d consider it an honour if you’d be willing to officiate.”  
  
It was Moira’s turn to blink at him in surprise. “You’re having a bonding ceremony?  Congratulations! I’ll check my schedule but I’d be thrilled to be there if your Sherlock agrees.”  
  
It was at that moment that the detective came into the room to collect John and it was clear he’d overheard the conversation.  His arm encircled John’s waist and he pulled the omega in tight to his side. 

“I think it would be wonderful if you and James could be there, Moira. I hope your schedule will allow it.”  
  
”Well, even if it doesn’t, I’ll cancel whatever is happening that day so I can officiate. Thank you for the invitation.” She smiled widely and her eyes sparkled with amusement. “I’d not miss this for anything. With you two involved, I’m sure there will be some kind of excitement. Probably bombs or something similar.” 

John couldn’t help but laugh. “We’ve had more than enough drama for the rest of the year. All I want to do is get the bonding ceremony done and then spend the rest of my pregnancy quietly with as little happening as possible.  There will be more than enough excitement once the triplets are born.” 

Moira sobered suddenly.  “Ah.  That reminds me of why I came over here.  You need to know something important. Fitzhugh is no longer in French custody.” 

Shocked, John could only gape at her.  Sherlock frowned and deep creases formed between his eyes. “What do you mean, he’s no longer in custody?”  
  
Taking a deep breath, Moira looked at them with regret in her eyes. “His case was turned over to the Paris Sentinel Tower for prosecution. Some of Fitzhugh’s cronies in Paris claimed the jurisdiction of the case was not with the civil authorities but with the Tower.  The civil judges agreed and he was extradited to the Paris Tower.  He was placed before a Tribunal and found not guilty of assault.”  
  
She held up a hand before John could protest. “You were not notified because your statements to the police were accepted as evidence by the Tribunal. What Fitzhugh did to you and Sherlock is considered assault and grievous bodily harm by civil authorities but by Sentinel Law, Fitzhugh was within his rights to fight for you, despite the fact that you were already bonded to Sherlock as his guide. You were not yet bonded as alpha and omega and therefore they saw you as fair game. 

“If Colin had managed to defeat and kill Sherlock, you would have belonged to him. By traditional standards this was perfectly acceptable behaviour. The fact that he was soundly defeated by the both of you was considered punishment enough and the Paris Tribunal allowed him to go free.” 

John looked at Sherlock in alarm and then back at Moira, who shook her head and continued. “I have no idea where he is currently so I advise you to keep your eyes open and stay alert.  I’m sorry to be the one to have to tell you this.  If I find his location, I’ll let you know immediately.” 

They both thanked her and made their way to the car park. Despite his worries about Fitzhugh, John sighed in relief as they drove home.  It was highly unlikely the former Alpha Prime would come for John again, anyway.  There was no point in trying to take an omega guide who was already bonded and bred. It made no sense. He’d still ask Mycroft to keep an eye out for Fitzhugh, however. John placed a fiercely protective hand over his noticeable bulge.  It was prudent to be careful and he did not want to risk his bond mate or children, even for a second. 

His spirits rose as they neared Baker Street.  He was very much looking forward to being back at their flat and having Sherlock all to himself.  Discussing buying a new flat could wait until later.  A celebration was in order for having got through the Tribunal and his two weeks of confinement in the Tower, not to mention a week in hospital and the successful though horrific ending of the case of the plastinated people.   He needed some closure for all these things and it called for a commemoration of some sort, even if it was only some take-away and an early night. 

Judging from the excitement and nervousness John could sense from Sherlock, the alpha clearly had similar thoughts. They arrived home just before noon and all John wanted was to have a cuppa, a nice lunch and then a kip in his own bed. 

He was pleased to see there were no journalists hovering around the entrance to their flat.  It was likely due to the presence of Mycroft's people parked at both ends of the street.  John insisted on carrying his own bags up the stairs, despite Sherlock's protests. As they entered the flat, John noticed a faint smell of paint and new construction and remembered the renovations that were going on in the flat next door.    

Idly hoping the work on Mrs Turner’s old building was done so he wouldn’t have to listen to sawing and hammering, John went directly to their bedroom and began to unpack. Sherlock deposited his bags on the bed and disappeared, indicating he’d start making tea.  John sorted dirty clothes for the laundry and put away clean ones, then visited the loo to wash up.     
  
Yawning and thinking about how wonderful a nice long kip would be, he walked into the kitchen but something made him stop dead before he’d taken more than a few steps. Turning around, he stepped warily out of the kitchen to glance carefully around the flat. It was then that he realised something was very different. 

“Sherlock, why is there a door here?”  There was a large opening in the wall that he was sure hadn’t been there three weeks before. He looked around the flat carefully and saw that the furniture had been slightly rearranged and everything was neat as a pin.  What was going on? 

“Sherlock? Where are you?”  The alpha was nowhere to be seen in the flat but John knew he was someplace close by. He wasn’t in the kitchen, loo or the bedroom. Where had he gone?  John looked suspiciously at the door and saw a note taped to the centre. It said,   “Enter”, so he reached out to turn the knob.    

The door opened into the second floor of Mrs Turner’s building, which had been completely renovated.  John could see the walls were freshly painted and the floors had been sanded, varnished and polished. Everything sparkled with cleanliness and newness. There was no furniture in the place, but standing in the middle of the flat were Sherlock, Siger, Mycroft, Grand-maman and unexpectedly, Violet Holmes.  
  
”Surprise, John!” Sherlock held out his arms and walked toward John, who gratefully slid an arm around Sherlock and allowed himself to be led forward into the flat. 

”What’s all this, Sherlock?  What have you done?” He gazed up in shock at his bond mate, who was grinning at him like a fool.

”Well, you said we would need more room and my family wanted to give us a bonding gift, so Father, Mummy, Grand-maman and Mycroft bought Mrs Turner’s building.”  Sherlock handed John a thick envelope. The doctor opened it and saw inside were the deeds to two properties on Baker Street in both his name and Sherlock’s.  

“Our family also bought 221 from Mrs Hudson, but she can live here rent free for the rest of her life.  We’ve also arranged for Mrs Turner to live in her old flat at a very minimal fee.  I think it’s an excellent arrangement.” 

Speechless, John could only look up at his alpha in amazement.  Sherlock smiled and steered John further into the new flat.  “Mycroft arranged to have this section of the flat gutted and renovated. It was actually Mummy’s idea and she designed the rooms and chose the paint colours. We can renovate 221B at our leisure if you think it’s necessary.”  

Sherlock led the stunned omega through their new extended flat, room by room.  There was a living area, a kitchen, two full baths and three new bedrooms.  The bedroom closest to 221B was clearly intended to be a nursery and it was bright and airy with plenty of cupboard space. 

The other two bedrooms were on the opposite side of the new kitchen area and not far from the main bath.  The guest room also had a full bath and John supposed his mother would be staying there. It was far enough away from John and Sherlock’s living space but close enough to the nursery to get there within seconds if necessary. The colours chosen for the rooms were all very tasteful and John was glad to see it was the kind of paint that was very easy to clean.  

He looked around again in astonishment.  “This is simply too much, but it’s absolutely perfect!  I couldn’t have planned this better if I’d tried. Thank you all! I can’t believe this!”   Everyone was grinning at John’s gobsmacked expression, even Violet.   

Siger stepped forward and spoke warmly.  “Sherlock has been working tirelessly to see that this got done in time for your return, which is why you’ve not seen much of him.  We left the finishing touches for you to complete, John. You just have to say what you want and we’ll arrange it.” 

Laughing, the doctor shook his head in bemusement. “I’ve got lists, you know.  Many, many lists. Grand-maman, you even sent one.  I’m going to need help acquiring the many things on those lists.” 

The elder Mrs Holmes smiled.  “Monique and I can meet with your mother, sisters and Mrs Hudson and we’ll arrange to purchase some of what you’ll need.  If you like, I’m sure Violet would be willing to help, as well.” She looked over at her daughter-in-law, who had been holding back somewhat. 

“I’d be honoured to help you and Sherlock, if you want me to do, John.  You just have to say.” She seemed rather anxious as if she were afraid her help would be rejected.  
  
John cocked an eyebrow at Sherlock, who was watching his reaction nervously. It was clear to the doctor that his bond mate wanted John to accept his mother’s help.   Smiling, he responded graciously. “I would appreciate your help very much, Violet.  Thank you.”  John basked in Sherlock’s delighted smile and could tell everyone else was relieved and pleased at his decision to give Violet another chance. 

Siger stepped forward and rubbed his hands together.  “Now that’s settled, I’d like to take you all to lunch and then we need to let John and Sherlock settle back home.  It’s been a long and stressful few weeks and I’m sure they’d like some time to themselves.”  
  
Everyone agreed and they headed out to Siger’s club. John wasn’t sure how things would go with the younger Mrs Holmes, but she was on her best behaviour the entire time.  In fact she was charming and funny and John found himself laughing out loud at her witty comments many times during the meal.  Grand-maman Holmes was also delightful and John found himself enjoying her more earthy sense of humour very much.   
  
The changes to the bonding ceremony were discussed and it was apparent that Violet was going to be attending. She had some excellent suggestions but deferred to Grand-maman when appropriate.  It was astonishing to John to see the switch in personality. If only she’d shown this side to herself at first, all would have been wonderful.  Unfortunately, John still didn’t completely trust her but was willing to go along with things for Sherlock’s sake.  

The detective seemed very pleased to see his family working to make their bonding ceremony a very special day. John knew that, no matter how independent Sherlock was, having his family accept his chosen bond mate was very important to him and John could tell that he was incredibly happy at the way his mother was at last treating them both properly. 

Finally, he and Sherlock were back home and by themselves.  John was no longer tired and was feeling energised and excited by everything that was happening.  As Sherlock made them some tea, John walked through the new part of the flat again and looked around in wonder.  

John had never thought much about how his surroundings were arranged or how they affected him.  He’d been in the army, after all and could easily make do with a sleeping bag and bare tent walls.  But this was where his children would live and grow and he found that he was suddenly very interested in how their environment should be arranged.  Everything should be perfect and completely finished before they arrived. 

Furnishing the nursery was suddenly of paramount importance and John realised he was starting to manifest the stereotypical omega ‘nesting’ impulses, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was making sure his children had what they needed.  He laughed at himself as he paced through the new section of his flat and ended up in the nursery.  He placed a protective hand on his expanding middle and considered the future. 

It was surreal to think that the foetuses inside him would one day be actual people. As he thought about the babies, he experienced an overwhelming feeling of love, contentment, happiness and safety that seemed to emanate from the core of his being.  

Without thinking, he directed it toward the three new beings inside and the feeling seemed to come back at him, redoubled.  It was not really possible that it could be coming from them, as their brains were not developed enough yet, but whatever it was, was sweet and incredibly moving. 

While John stood there and experienced the strange sensations, Sherlock walked into the room and came up behind him. The alpha slipped his arms around the doctor, placed his hands over John’s where they rested on his protruding belly and kissed his temple gently. John leaned back into Sherlock’s embrace and relaxed.  Again, without thinking, he used his empathy to share the feeling.  He experienced Sherlock’s surprise and the instant when the alpha accepted what was happening with wonder and rising joy. 

The moment passed gradually and they both sighed as it faded away.  John wasn’t sure what had just happened but it had been beautiful.  

Coming back to himself, he turned and looked up at Sherlock, whose expression was rather bemused.  He smiled and spoke quietly. “Don’t ask me what happened because I really don’t know.”  
  
“Those feelings seemed to come from our children, John.  How is that even possible?” 

The omega thought for a moment.  “While I was reading some of the old books at the Tower Archives, there was one section that warned that omega guides shouldn’t use their empathy when pregnant because the children could ‘awaken’ early.  I thought that it meant they’d be geniuses and had been expecting that.  But maybe the use of empathy makes them aware on some level while in the womb. If that’s the case, it doesn’t seem to be harming them at all.  All I felt was love and contentment and I wasn’t really sure it was from them, though I suspect that’s the case. Is that what you felt, also?” 

Sherlock’s eyes were wide and he nodded.  “It’s incredible that I could sense such strong emotions from them so early.  I have heard of sentinel/guide parents having a connection with their unborn children before but never so early or so strong.  I’ll have to research this.”  
  
John reached for his alpha.  He wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s neck and ran his hands through the thick, silky hair. “You can do that later. I have some other things I’d like to do with you now.”  

John melted into the kiss Sherlock gave him and used his empathy to project to his alpha all his love and adoration. They made their way to their bedroom and tenderly undressed each other.  Sherlock spent a long time kissing and massaged John’s belly and expressing his wonder at the new lives they were creating together. 

They ended up in John’s favourite position with John straddled across Sherlock’s lap and the alpha buried deep inside him.  As John kissed and nuzzled his alpha, Sherlock caressed John's hips and belly and sucked on the John’s sensitive nipples.  The alpha moved slowly inside John as he stroked the omega’s penis in time with his thrusts.  It was wonderful and John trembled and panted at the slow, controlled movements. The position allowed him to tighten his muscles around his bond mate, causing Sherlock to throw his head back and moan as he began to lose control and thrust erratically. 

Keeping his hands on the headboard, John leaned back somewhat, changing the angle to where his prostate was massaged with each thrust. Sherlock sped up his strokes on John and the doctor came with a shout, striping his alpha’s chest with semen.  He collapsed on top of Sherlock and rested a bit with his alpha still hard, buried deep inside him.   
  
After a moment, he sat back and raised himself up a bit, reaching back to feel with one hand where they were joined. Sherlock’s testicles were tight to his body and he was trembling as he held back his orgasm. 

“You’re so close, Sherlock. Do you want to finish inside me while I’m on my belly?”  That was Sherlock’s favourite position and John loved it, too. 

“No, I want to see your face when I come inside you. Do you feel up to it?”

“That’s fine, luv.  In a few weeks, I may be too big to do it this way, but this is fine right now.”  They switched positions and John placed his legs over his alpha’s shoulders.  Sherlock slid back in with a groan of bliss as John arched his back and tightened around him.  

From his position, despite his swollen belly, John could see his alpha’s penis disappearing inside him and pulling back out, glistening with their combined fluids and a jolt of arousal shot through him despite having just come.  Sherlock chuckled as John’s penis twitched and began to engorge again.  

The alpha wiped some of the come off his chest and used it as lubrication as he began to stroke John’s penis again in time with his own thrusts.   Impaled incredibly deeply, John writhed in enjoyment as his excitement mounted.  Sherlock sped up his movements and bent forward to kiss John deeply. He then pulled back and sucked at John’s left nipple, while pinching the other.  John cried out and arched his back as he came again. His internal muscles tightened and quivered hard around Sherlock, who growled as he emptied himself deep inside the omega. The alpha seemed to come for a long time as he tried to push himself increasingly deeper inside John. 

Finally Sherlock relaxed and pulled carefully out,  catching the copious fluids oozing out of John’s hole.  As he had done many times before, Sherlock rubbed the combined juices on John’s nipples and belly as his sentinel side made him instinctively mark John as his guide and his guide alone.  As always, John still found it incredibly arousing.  If he’d not just come twice in a short time, he’d probably be erect again. 

Their lovemaking continued for the rest of the night and was unhurried, gentle and very satisfying.  It had been a wonderful homecoming for them both and John couldn't be happier at that moment. There was a lot to do to get the flat ready for the future but right now he wanted to simply enjoy being home with his bond mate. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many thanks to Mich, who was an enormous help to me on this chapter and the next. Happy birthday and many returns of the day, sweetie. :-) 
> 
> Thank you all for your patience, your very kind thoughts and comments, especially your sympathies for my mom. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter and only one more chapter to go! I think. ;-)

The next few days were spent in a flurry of shopping for larger clothes and furnishings for the flat’s new extension. Keeping in mind that Fitzhugh was possibly lurking about, Sherlock accompanied John to the tailor’s for the bonding suit fitting and then back to the shop for pregnant male omegas.  Mycroft’s men shadowed them at a discreet distance, as well.  Again, John was grateful for his brother-in-law’s connections that permitted that kind of protection. He wouldn’t normally accept it for himself, but since it was for his future children, he didn’t hesitate. 

John did not enjoy clothes shopping but it was a necessity.  The clothes he’d bought earlier would do for now, but he would need much larger things he could wear once he got into the third trimester. John had seen photos online of how enormous omegas with triplets got and he’d been rather horrified at what it was going to do to his body, but he was planning to be pragmatic about it.  It was important to get the new clothes now because it was likely that he wouldn’t be able to go shopping after 20 weeks along. He’d be lucky if he wasn’t confined to bed or in hospital by 28 weeks.  And he would be about 23 weeks along at the bonding ceremony at the end of March. 

Next on the agenda was furnishing the nursery and the renovated flat while he still had the energy.  He wasn’t as tired as he’d been earlier and had been gradually getting his energy back, but he didn’t know how long that would last.  While the morning sickness was mostly gone he was starting to experience some slight pains in his abdomen which he knew was the stretching of the ligaments that supported his womb.  It was early to be starting that but considering he had three foetuses inside, it was expected some of these things would start happening sooner rather than later. 

Getting everything ready for the nursery and new extension was a serious team effort.  He consulted with his mum about the guest bedroom and bath since she would be staying there when the triplets arrived.   Once he’d shown his family around the expanded flat, John sent his mother, Harry and Clara off with a credit card he’d arranged in his Mum’s name in anticipation of needing her help.  They all stared at the platinum Barclaycard with wide eyes and then Harry whooped with joy and herded them all out of the flat.  John rolled his eyes but couldn’t help laughing and wondering what kind of damage they’d do once they hit the shops. 

The rest of the flat, along with the second bedroom was being furnished by Violet and Siger, so he didn’t have to worry about that. He trusted that they would have excellent taste yet acquire practical furnishings that could take a serious beating from three rambunctious children.  They knew exactly what to expect since they’d raised Sherlock. 

Monique and his mother were taking care of equipping the kitchen and getting all the things necessary for keeping three babies fed. There must have been hundreds of things to acquire and he was incredibly grateful for all the help. 

It was up to him to furnish and prepare the nursery.  Sherlock begged off, so John and Mrs Hudson visited various specialty shops looking for cots and baby furniture. He had done some research online about the most highly rated cots and of course they were in the most expensive shops. 

Once he found what he was searching for he ordered three of everything, making the shop clerk assisting him very happy.  She was also an omega and expecting her fourth child and so had some very practical and valuable advice for him. She and Mrs Hudson put their heads together and came up with even more things for John to order for the babies’ room.  He didn’t even want to look at the final bill but just handed over the credit card and signed the receipt. 

They stopped for lunch and then hit more shops for things like curtains and carpeting. Every time he and Mrs Hudson purchased something they needed, he experienced a sense of satisfaction of a job well done.  It was just the ‘nesting instinct’ kicking in that he’d felt earlier but he found he liked it a lot.  He was looking forward to getting the room ready for his children’s arrival and was extremely happy with the few things he had been able to bring home immediately.  The rest of the furnishings he’d bought would be arriving the following week.  In the meantime, he began a thorough cleaning of the flat and slight rearranging of furniture. 

Sherlock knew enough to stay out of his way and retreated down to 221C to begin to set up an office and laboratory.  The detective had hired people to deal with the damp and mildew problem and was starting to move his chemistry things downstairs.  John was grateful to be able to scrub the fridge clean and get the kitchen organised the way he’d always wanted now that body parts would no longer be coming upstairs. 

The new furnishings began to arrive and he spent a fair amount of time with his Mum and Mrs Hudson arranging the nursery.  Violet and Siger sent over the furniture, carpets and curtains they’d chosen for the lounge area, bedroom and bath, leaving it up to John to decide where everything went. Finally, Grand-maman Holmes sent John some of her beautiful paintings to hang. 

Nearly overcome with amazement and gratitude, John found himself speechless when they were presented to him.  In his opinion, they were priceless treasures and he wanted to keep them safe as could be.  So John hung them carefully in their bedroom in the probably vain hope they would be kept far away from grimy little fingers and various sharp objects in the years to come. 

Over a week later, the cots were the last big items to arrive for the nursery. Mumbling swear words that would make a Royal Marine blush, John tried to assemble one of them by himself. He’d asked Sherlock for help but he’d yet to see the alpha and couldn’t actually blame him for not showing up.  Pieces of the cot were strewn all over the floor and the instructions seemed to have been translated from some dead language, to Japanese and then to English and made absolutely no sense. 

One of the pieces had pinched the skin of his fingers which had hurt like hell and the fibreglass cast on his wrist was making it even more difficult to put the damn thing together because he couldn’t grasp the pieces effectively. The cast was thankfully due to come off soon, but it made the task harder to accomplish. However, he vowed to persevere or die trying rather than have to pay some teenager to put it together for him. 

After about half an hour he was ready to throw in the towel when he heard Sherlock bounding up the steps.  It was as good enough of an excuse to give up momentarily and he hauled himself up off the floor with a grunt.  It was getting more difficult to do things like that and he nearly overbalanced.  His centre of gravity was off and he wasn’t used to it yet, but managed to save himself by catching the edge of one of the changing tables.  He’d really have to work on getting himself used to the change in his balance and made a mental note to talk to Marty about it. 

Sherlock arrived at the door to the nursery, breathless with excitement.  “John! Lestrade’s been given Dimmock’s case.  There’s been another murder and the scene is fresh.  Can you come?” 

It took a moment to remember the murders in Croyden. “I thought you said it was dull and you weren’t interested.” 

“That was before.  Dimmock is an idiot and I detest working with him.  Lestrade says this one’s different.  Even if it is dull, let’s at least go and see what he’s talking about.” 

Sherlock swept out of the flat without even looking to see if John was following.  Of course John was right on his heels.  The cab ride across the river took nearly thirty minutes but soon they were at the crime scene. 

The victim was lying in a pool of his own blood in the back of an alley.  The area had been cordoned off with the ubiquitous yellow crime scene tape but a good number of officers were forced to keep back a restless crowd of bystanders who kept trying to push forward to get a good look at the gruesome scene. 

Sherlock pushed through, totally disregarding the mutters of irritation from the crowd while John followed in his wake.  The police let them pass and they finally arrived at the scene.  Sherlock snapped on some latex gloves and carefully knelt beside the body. 

John stood next to Lestrade and watched as the detective worked.  “What’s so different about this one, Greg?” 

“Well, it’s only a bit different. The other murders appeared to be motivated by robbery but this one’s wallet wasn’t taken. Anderson found it under the body.” 

John watched as Sherlock approached Anderson and held out an imperious hand for the evidence the man had bagged.  The detective took it without comment and glanced briefly inside.  He then shoved it back at the forensics man with a look of total contempt and turned on his heel to approach Lestrade and John. 

“Lestrade, this wasn’t worth my time in the least. Like the others, this was a murder motivated by robbery.  Absolutely nothing interesting or mysterious about it. 

“Anderson is a complete imbecile.  The wallet doesn’t even belong to the victim. It belongs to the murderer and he’s hovering out there in the crowd. Do you see the dark haired beta with the purple jacket?  Have some of your men collect him and bring him here for questioning.  He’s such an idiot that he’s hoping you’ve overlooked his wallet and seems to think he’ll recover it once you’ve gone.  No doubt he’ll try to come up with some unconvincing lie as to why it was under the body of the victim.” 

Lestrade pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I’m really sorry, Sherlock. Looks like you’ve had a wasted trip.  I just got here myself a few minutes ago. I was assured by Anderson that…well, never mind. I should know better by now but I wanted you to see the scene while it was still fresh just in case he was correct.” 

“You should definitely know by now he’s never correct,” Sherlock huffed.  But John could see that Greg’s apology slightly mollified the detective and he subsided while the DI instructed some of his people to bring the suspect over for questioning. 

Sure enough, the man was dragged unwillingly over to where Lestrade, John and Sherlock were standing.  Anderson walked up to join them, looking furious. Sherlock moved away from him and sneered. 

Lestrade took the bagged wallet and checked the identification in it. Then he looked up at the man in custody.  “Well, Mr Smith.  It seems your wallet was found under the body of our murder victim. Do you have an explanation for this?” 

Smith’s face turned ugly. “You wankers can kiss my arse.” 

Sherlock sighed dramatically.  “Well, that was an interesting abuse of the English language.  This is your killer, Lestrade.  Check his fingernails.  You’ll find the victim’s blood beneath them. I also strongly suggest you search him well.  No doubt you’ll find the murder weapon.  Come along, John. I think you asked for help on putting those cots together?” 

The detective swirled away dramatically and began to walk toward the street.  As John turned to join him, out of the corner of his eye he saw the gleam of metal as Smith dropped a knife into his palm and immediately slashed at the police officer who was holding his right arm.  The officer screamed and clutched at his face as the killer jerked away from the other officer and lunged at Anderson next.  Lestrade seemed to be too stunned to react right away but John was right there. 

As Anderson screeched in fear of the knife heading right for his neck, John blocked the blow with the fibreglass cast on his wrist.  With a couple of expert moves, he disarmed the assailant and had Smith down in a shoulder lock while grinding his face into the rough pavement. The doctor looked up to see Anderson, still screaming, pull his hands away from his face and gape stupidly down at John. 

“For fuck’s sake, Anderson, shut up! Will someone please call an ambulance and get some handcuffs on this tosser?  I need to see to that officer’s face now!”  As a cursing Smith struggled and tried to break away, John tightened the hold he had on the man’s arm and pushed his face into the grit even harder.  John could feel the strain on his swollen abdomen and needed to stop any ideas of escape before Smith could actually injure him.  Smith screamed as his shoulder dislocated with a loud pop and he finally subsided with a sob of pain. 

Lestrade had him handcuffed in a moment and was hauling him away to find an ambulance with the help of the second officer.   Then Sherlock was kneeling beside John and helping him up.  The alpha’s face was pale and his hands shook, but he was clearly proud of John.  The doctor grinned at him before he moved over to help the injured officer.  The cut wasn’t too deep and thankfully had missed the eye but was bloody painful and would scar.  John pressed a towel to the injury until he was relieved by a paramedic. 

Smith had been transported while John had been helping the police officer.  As Sherlock gave John some alcohol based wipes to clean his hands, Anderson approached them tentatively. 

John eyed the man and spoke up first.  “Are you all right, Anderson?  He didn’t get you with that knife, did he?”  The doctor could practically hear Sherlock rolling his eyes, but he wanted to make sure the forensics man was uninjured.  He didn’t like Anderson much, but John was a doctor, first and foremost. 

Cutting his eyes quickly over at Sherlock, Anderson focused back on John. “I…thank you, John.  I hadn’t really believed what everyone said about you, you know.  That you were so good at fighting and all.  But they were right and I owe you my life.” 

Sherlock shook his head in despair and John tried hard to hide his smile as his alpha spoke.  “Anderson, you’re a complete waste of oxygen and I can feel my IQ plummeting by just being in your presence.  I’ll meet you on the street, John.  Soon, please.”  The doctor hid a snort of laughter as Sherlock strode off, coat flapping dramatically. 

John sighed at the spectacular exit and turned back to Anderson. “You’re very welcome. I’m glad I could help.”  The forensic scientist stood there awkwardly for a moment while John arched his eyebrows at him.  “Yes, is there anything else? Sherlock is waiting for me.” 

The man lowered his head and glanced back up at him hesitantly.  “I’d also heard you were expecting triplets and I just wanted to wish you well and good luck.  With the babies and all.  My sister is an omega and had triplets three years ago.  She had a rough pregnancy and often said she wished she had someone to talk to who had been through it before.  If you want to talk to her about it, I’ll be glad to give you her number.  I think she’d be thrilled to help you. That’s all I wanted to say.” 

Taken aback, all John could do was blink at him for a moment.  He was actually rather touched by Anderson’s offer of support.  “Oh. Yes. Well, thank you. Actually, I would love to have her number.”  Anderson wrote it on a scrap of paper and handed it over.  

John glanced at the name.  “Peggy Warden.  Thanks, Anderson.  I’ll give her a ring.”  The man gave him a faint smile just as Sherlock shouted at him.  “I need to go. I suppose I’ll see you later and thank you for your sister’s number.”  Anderson nodded and walked away as Lestrade came up to him. 

“You okay, John?  Those were some pretty impressive moves for someone as big as you are.”  Lestrade grinned at him and lightly patted the omega’s stomach.  John mock-frowned at Lestrade and batted the DI’s hand away from his large and protuberant belly. 

“Oi!  No touching the baby bump!  That’s only for  _important_  people.  I’m just fine, no thanks to you.  What happened to your heroic police training, Hot Shot?” 

“You didn’t give me a chance! Not everyone’s a ninja like you, Watson.  Thanks for saving Anderson, by the way, though I imagine Sherlock isn’t best pleased.” 

“Well, he’s just going to have to get over it.  I doubt he’d miss Anderson, but he would be hard pressed to find another person he could torment so successfully.”  Lestrade rolled his eyes and threw an arm over John’s shoulders as the DI walked him toward Sherlock, who was waiting impatiently with a cab, ready to depart. 

“Did your arse of an alpha tell you I’m going to be standing up for him as a bonding companion at your ceremony?  I think he’s also asked Mycroft and their father.  He said he doesn’t want a stag do, though.  Who are you having stand up as a companion for you?” 

John had thought to ask Starr, Ben and Bill, but hadn’t got that far.  “I’ll have to get back to you on that.  Must run or I won’t get any help putting the cots together.” 

Lestrade laughed.  “By all means, don’t let me stop you getting essential work done!  Thanks for coming by, Sherlock.  Sorry it wasn’t what we thought.” 

“Well, seeing Anderson nearly killed by a knife-wielding manic was almost worth the trip.”  With that, Sherlock climbed into the cab.  John shrugged and made a what-can-you-do face at Lestrade and followed him inside.  The DI laughed and waved at them with his fingers as they drove away. 

John thought about it for a few days and decided to contact Anderson’s sister.  The thought of talking with someone who had been through birthing triplets was quite attractive.  When he told Sherlock what he proposed to do, the man had huffed and then said maybe it was a good idea.  He also said he hoped that Anderson’s sister wasn’t as much of an imbecile as her brother. 

After he stopped laughing, John dialled the number and it was picked up quickly.  “Hello?”  A man’s voice answered the phone. John could hear high pitched shrieks and yelling in the background and almost rang off, but instead he asked, “May I speak to Peggy Warden, please?” 

The man yelled, “PEG! PHONE!” and through the ringing in his ear from the man’s bellow, John could hear the phone clattering down on a hard surface.  In the background a woman’s voice shouted back.  “All right! Keep your knickers on!  Go finish their bath, now.  And DON’T let them have that damn shower hose again!” 

John wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to this person but she answered while he dithered.  “Hello?  This better not be a telesales person or I’ll find you and cut off….” 

“Um, no.  No, I’m not a telesales man. I’m John Watson. I hope I’m not ringing you at a bad time.  Your brother gave me your number…” 

Her tone changed immediately.  “Oh, I’m so glad!  Syl said that you might bell me.  He said you were pregnant with triplets too and might want to talk.”

 _Syl_?  “Uh, yeah.  Yes, I’d very much like to talk to someone who has been through it all, if you don’t mind.” 

“Of course!  I’m more than happy to talk to you.  Do you want to come to my house this weekend?  The kids will be visiting their grandmother, thank Christ Almighty, and I’ll fix us some tea.  I wish I’d had someone to talk to about this when I was expecting.  How far along are you?” 

“Almost 16 weeks.” 

She chortled with glee.  “You must feel as big as a house right now, but trust me; you’ve not seen anything yet.” 

John tried to laugh as well but it sounded more like a weak whimper.  “I’ve seen pictures on the internet.  It’s hard to believe!” 

“Believe it, mate.  You will be enormous before it’s all said and done.  I made it to 33 weeks but I was as sick as a dog the last few.  My kidneys tried to shut down and I was hospitalised for the last month.  It was horrible.  But the kids were all fine, thank goodness!”  At that moment, the background noise ratcheted up to an almost unbelievable decibel. 

Peggy sighed in John’s ear.  “No rest for the weary, I’m afraid.  So sorry, John, but I must go.  The triplets have got loose from the bath and are running around the house naked and dripping.  And my bond mate is making things worse in his normal, passive aggressive way.”  Her voice sounded terribly fond, however.  It was clear she adored her family. 

“Here’s my address.”  She rattled off the number and street and John barely got them down in time. “Come by on Saturday for tea. Around 4.  The holy terrors will be gone and there will be peace and quiet for a few hours.” 

He could hear shrieks of laughter along with giggles and then small feet pounding on a wooden floor.  Something sounded very wet.  “Cheers.  Do you need me to bring anything?  Like some restraints or a large cage?” 

Peggy laughed again.  “Nope.  Believe it or not, this is mostly under control!  But I do have to go.  See you Saturday!”  She rang off and John set down the mobile.  As he did so he realised his hand was shaking.   _Oh god_.  From what he just overheard, raising triplets was going to be so much worse than he’d ever imagined and he dreaded what kind of chaos he’d find in Peggy’s house. 

His visit with Peggy Warden was surprisingly pleasant, however.  John could see that her home was not the wreck he been imagining but was very tidy as she offered her hand and warmly welcomed him inside. 

The doctor shook her hand in return.  “Thank you very much for inviting me over, Peggy.  It’s a huge relief to meet someone who has been through all this.”  He placed a hand meaningfully on his rather large belly.  

Peggy smiled.  “You’re welcome. Before I say anything else, I want to tell you what an honour is to finally meet you, John.” 

“What do you mean?”  He was honestly confused as she led him inside and closed the door. 

“Whether you know it or not, you’re the official representative for omega and guide rights at the moment.  The press has made you into a hero and politicians are finally taking the complaints of omegas and guides seriously.  You’ve not heard of the new legislations being proposed that are giving us back our rights?” 

John felt a bit sheepish.  “Actually, no.  I’ve not been paying much attention to politics lately.  I’ve been rather busy.”  Honestly, he hadn’t wanted to see how he’d been portrayed in the newspapers and telly.  But maybe he should have paid more attention.  Pro-omega and guide legislation being proposed?  He’d have to ask Mycroft about that. 

“Well, these new laws will roll back even more of the restrictions on omegas taking work in high risk positions.  I had always wanted to study oceanography but was barred from it at University when I applied because I was an omega.”  She smiled at his indrawn breath as he realised the significance of what she was saying. 

“I had no idea but I can’t imagine I had anything to do with that.  I think it was just time and people are willing to support the changes now.” 

Shaking her head, Peggy disagreed.  “You can be modest all you like, but this is entirely your doing:  standing up to the authorities in the LondonSentinelTower and as an indirect result, the anti-omega Traditionalists in Parliament.  But since you’re a guest, I won’t argue with you.”  She was smiling as she said it and led him through the house. 

Grateful for the change in subject, John greatly admired her tidy home.  His nesting instincts were in full swing and he was getting all kinds of ideas.  There were toys and books stacked cleverly and neatly in corners.  There were also toys that were clearly meant for much older children and before he thought about it, he asked, “How many children do you have?” 

Smiling faintly, she arched an eyebrow at him.  “I’ve got eight.  The oldest is twelve and the triplets just turned three.  We had planned to have just one more after the fifth and then stop there, but we couldn’t have predicted Mother Nature’s little joke on us.”  She grinned as John’s mouth gaped open and he was sure his eyes were starting out of his head. 

“Eight, you say?”  Much to his embarrassment, his voice squeaked rather loudly.  Peggy continued to smile as she brought him into a plain but pleasantly decorated parlour and sat him on the sofa.  She had set up some tea with a wide variety of biscuits and small sandwiches, which were very welcome.  He just realised he was starving.

She replied as she poured for John. “Yes, eight children.  It’s been an experience, I can tell you.  Not one I ever expected but I wouldn’t trade even one of them for all the tea in China.” 

Changing the subject once again, Peggy pushed a plate with the sandwiches toward him.  “Now, if you’re anything like me, I was starving all the time but couldn’t eat large meals.  I found it was easier to have a small meal six or eight times a day.”  John nodded in agreement because he’d been doing the same thing recently and he ate the excellent sandwiches with great enjoyment. 

They chatted about various things and got to know one another a bit as they had their tea.  Peggy was well educated and had been bonded since she’d graduated from University.  Her bond mate was a solicitor and did quite well for himself and their large family. 

She talked about her kids and about her brother, as well.  “So how well do you know my brother?  He talks about your bond mate rather a lot.”  Her expression was carefully neutral. 

John involuntarily barked out a laugh.  “I can imagine Anderson never says anything very nice about Sherlock and I don’t blame him.  There’s no love lost there.  He can get Sherlock worked up faster than anyone else on earth, I think.” 

Peggy hid her smile with a sip of tea.  “Syl can be incredibly irritating.  I think he works at it.  But he mentions you as well and always positively.  He thinks highly of you, especially after you saved his life the other day.” 

John’s eyebrows rose at that.  That was a surprise.  Carefully wiping his mouth after his sixth sandwich, John asked, “Well, I don’t know him all that well because I had no idea that his first name was Syl.” 

Peggy snorted rather indelicately.  “His full name is Sylvan.  When Mum was pregnant with him, she was totally convinced that he was a girl and refused to pick any other name than Sylvia.  So when he was born and proved to be a boy, she looked up the masculine version and the rest is history.”  She grinned at John’s mischievous look.  “I’m guessing you can’t wait to tell your bond mate this story.” 

“You guessed right.  I think he may send you some flowers for giving him some additional ammunition against your brother.” 

She sighed.  “As long as you don’t send me your first-born.  I’ve already got too many as it is.”  John nearly inhaled his tea and spent a few moments coughing as she laughed at him. 

The late afternoon quickly moved into early evening as Peggy talked about her experiences being pregnant with triplets.  She had actually prepared a couple of printed lists of things that John could expect to encounter as his pregnancy progressed and they spent a nice couple of hours going over them.

Some of the things she had to tell him had his eyes bugging out of his head.  “Sure, there are a lot of things that can happen and that can go wrong.  You’re a doctor, so you know. Your kidneys and liver can start failing and of course there’s pre-eclampsia.  Sometimes the babies move around inside and push against your diaphragm and stomach so that you can’t breathe and then you have trouble getting enough sleep.  What’s really funny is when the Braxton-Hicks contractions start and it looks like you’ve got an alien creature in your tummy. 

“And once they’ve arrived, you think your troubles are over.  But no, they’ve only just begun.  For me, getting enough sleep so I wasn’t a zombie was the hardest part.  Thank goodness I had a lot of help from family. So don’t refuse any help and be as organised before hand as you can.  And stay on a schedule! I can’t emphasise that enough.” 

She had more excellent advice which he gratefully received and recorded carefully.  As he left her home with reams of notes and her printed lists to go over he thought for the first time that maybe he could do this thing. Peggy also urged him to call her anytime, day or night with any questions.  He was sure that he would do so, probably often. 

The weeks flew by as John’s girth increased.  He continued to feel well and was having no trouble.  Keeping fit was important and after the cast was removed from his wrist, he had found a pool nearby and was up to ten laps every other day.  Also, he continued the exercises that Marty had developed for him.  It was getting more and more difficult to do anything that required sitting on the floor, however.  It was humiliating to find himself unable to get to his feet one day and instead had to hoist himself up by rolling to his side, getting onto his hands and knees and then to his feet.  John knew it was just a matter of time before he’d have to slow down and eventually stop until the babies were born. 

At 18 weeks, all the tests for genetic abnormalities came back negative and Dr Fulton gave him excellent reports on his health. He was warned to start taking it easy and cut back on exercising, though. 

“Your heart is very strong, John, but your other organs, especially your kidneys and liver are going to be working overtime soon.  You know all this but you have a tendency to overdo.  Moderate swimming and walks are fine for now but nothing too stressful.”  Dr Fulton was adamant and John agreed and began to cut back some. 

He kept busy in other ways, though.  When Sherlock didn’t require him for cases, he had kept up writing in his blog and answering emails.  It took about a week after the article in  _The Observer_  came out for John to finally dare to open the new email account he’d created.  Just as Dean had said would happen, the inbox was completely full. 

Resigned, John spent an entire day going through them.  Once he’d weeded out the ones that were obvious trolls, simple fan letters and hate mail (there were far fewer of those than he’d expected), John found many that seemed real and heartfelt.  He still had Sherlock check them out for him but once he determined they were serious, he responded.  John then tried to spend at least a few minutes a day going over the emails and corresponding with those omegas and guides who wanted his aid. 

Most emails were from the UK but some were from other countries.  The local emails were easier to deal with when he enlisted Tom and Ailbert to help him.  They gave prospective guides information about how to apply to the Tower and John provided the questioners with the LondonTower’s email address along with information about whom specifically they needed to reach to answer their questions.  John made sure his correspondents knew it was up to them to initiate contact and that he would never give their information out to anyone without permission.  For most prospective guides, that seemed to be all they needed. 

The emails from guides out of the country were another issue but he again gathered his resources and with help from Sherlock, Mycroft and the LondonTower guides, he was able to find good and solid information for most of the people who contacted him. 

Some of the omegas who wrote wanted assistance or information that he couldn’t provide but thankfully, through Dean’s connections as an omega activist, John was able to give them names of organisations that could help them.  He tried to follow up with the omegas who contacted him as often as possible. 

He’d been a bit concerned at first that answering all the questions would take up too much of his time but found that being able to send many of these omegas in the right direction to get what they needed was extremely fulfilling and he began to look forward to the emails that would arrive.  Sadly, none of the people who wrote were omega guides or at least none mentioned it. 

Just as he had hoped, the furore caused by the newspaper article died down quickly and few people recognised him any longer.  It was a huge relief and he began to relax somewhat.  After a few weeks, the emails from omegas and guides became fewer but almost all were honest enquiries.  He was glad to help out and it didn’t hurt that it also kept him busy and his mind off the physical changes that were happening to his body. 

As his pregnancy progressed, John would occasionally catch sight of himself in a mirror or shop window and receive a jolt of surprise.  He wasn’t even 20 weeks along yet but he looked full term.  His mammary glands were beginning to develop as his nipples enlarged and became even more sensitive than before.  Sherlock often took unfair advantage but John found he didn’t mind that particularly. 

Trips to Tesco’s became more about his pregnancy than his former notoriety as an omega guide.  Nearly everyone he encountered literally cooed over him.  His scent had changed to announce his status and it was apparently a very pleasant scent.  Alphas and betas acted protective and wanted to carry his groceries while other omegas couldn’t help but go on about how he was simply glowing.  John didn’t think he glowed at all but just smiled and went about his business. 

When he noticed his first stretch marks, he couldn’t help feeling a bit odd and ambivalent about it.  But considering how many other scars he had on his body, a few more certainly wouldn’t be that noticeable.  After all, his scars had never put off Sherlock in any way before and a few more wouldn’t make any difference. 

He went out anyway and bought himself some skin crème especially made for stretch marks, not because he thought it would work but because Sherlock loved to rub it onto John’s belly and breasts, which then always led to other, much more enjoyable activities. 

They kept an eye out for Fitzhugh and checked in regularly with Mycroft and Moira at the Tower for news, but so far there were no reports that the man had even re-entered the country.  They began to relax even further and John was finally allowed to run errands and visit the Tower for lessons and to audit the classes whenever he chose without an armed escort.  It was a huge relief not to be squired around by some enormous MI5 agent or to have Sherlock hovering nervously about. 

Though John didn’t mind Sherlock hovering so much.  His omega side was craving his alpha’s presence more and more often, and the reverse seemed to be true as well.  He began to experience a feeling of separation anxiety similar to what he’d felt when they’d first bonded whenever he left his home, but it subsided fairly quickly.  It helped when he carried one of Sherlock’s scarves with him, though. 

The classes at the Tower were moving away from history lectures and into the practical use of empathy.  John could tell the young guides were excited at the prospect of actually starting to learn how to use their empathy.  The doctor had to admit that it was great fun to watch the youngsters struggling to master even the simplest disciplines.  He was called in more than once to allow new students to practice pushing against his shields since even the strongest of them couldn’t hurt him.  He very much enjoyed being able to contribute to the training of a new generation of guides.  Everything they were being taught was so new and he loved watching them learn and grow. 

His pregnancy was around 19 weeks when he first felt one of the babies move.  It was the oddest sensation and it woke him from a sound sleep.  He lurched upright with a gasp but the feeling had stopped.  He had felt the occasional empathic reverberations from the triplets over the past weeks, but this was very different in that is was physical and not emotional. 

Sherlock woke with him.  “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”  The alpha sat up and glanced around for any danger.  They were in between cases at the moment, which meant Sherlock stayed with John most of the night.  John was making sure to get enough sleep while he could because pretty soon it was going to get more difficult to do anything.  He was starting to have some trouble breathing sometimes and his trips to the loo had increased dramatically. 

“I think I just felt one of the babies move.  It was a weird, fluttery feeling.  Kind of like gas, but not.” 

“Well, that made no sense.  But it’s normal to feel them move at this point, isn’t it?”  Sherlock sat up straight and put a hand onto John’s distended belly. 

“It’s different for each omega but it’s usually normal for the babies to start moving at this stage of development.  It’s called ‘the quickening’.  I wondered if they’d have enough room to move at all, what with three of them all packed tight in there.” 

Sherlock raised a brow, and then urged John onto his side and lay down behind him, wrapping one arm tight around John’s abdomen.  He chuckled sleepily into the doctor’s ear. “I’m sure they will make room. They’re part Holmes’, after all.” 

John couldn’t help laughing and he could feel Sherlock’s smile against the back of his neck.  Yawning, he relaxed and fell back to sleep, held safe in his alpha’s arms. 

The next few weeks were busy with so many activities, John nearly forgot about the bonding ceremony. He was reminded when Moira and James rang to formally accept their invitation to officiate.  They asked him about which vows they wanted to recite and John had had to promise to get back to them.  Neither he nor Sherlock had even thought about that and he immediately forgot about it.  He had managed to remember to ask Starr, Ben and Bill to stand up for him, though, and was quite proud of himself. 

Jenny and Clara had sent out all the invitations, and the RSVPs were coming to the flat.  John just handed them over to his mum with glazed eyes.  He didn’t want to deal with any details and thankfully his mum was more than happy to take over that task.  She informed him that everyone they’d invited was planning to come.  

John had not only invited his former teammates, but he’d also invited the journalist Dean as well as Tom and Ailbert along with their sentinels.  Sherlock had indeed asked Lestrade and Mycroft to stand up for him and Starr, Ben and Bill had agreed to stand up for John.  The rest of the gathering would include their immediate family members as well as Mrs Hudson.  Even so, it would still be a relatively small gathering, which worked out fine for John.  He was growing so large that he was afraid they’d have to roll him into the ceremony and the fewer people who saw that, the better. 

The 20 week mark was huge in John’s mind mainly because he was concerned he would have to start slowing down.  But he continued to feel well and kept getting excellent reports from Dr Fulton.  He was just beginning to feel the babies move and the emotional communion he had first felt at 16 weeks continued and actually began to intensify.  It wasn’t something he worried about and actually cherished the times when it would happen. 

Sometimes he seemed to inadvertently instigate it but other times the babies seemed to be the ones to start it.  What he was feeling was a calming reassurance and contentment as well as emotions of love and safety that they would feed back and forth to each other. 

Whenever Sherlock was home, he felt it, too and John revelled in it.  He loved it and anticipated it eagerly whenever it happened though he was careful not to set it off on purpose.  He couldn’t imagine it was normal, though, because if being pregnant was always like that, he decided that he wanted to be pregnant all the time. 

At John’s 20th week appointment, Dr Fulton offered to tell them the sexes of their babies.  “It’ll help you decide on names if you know.”  He looked at them with both brows raised over his spectacles as he held the ultrasound transducer poised in one hand over John’s belly. 

Sherlock squeezed John’s hand.  “I’ll leave it up to you, John.  You decide if you want us to know.” 

Snorting in amusement, John shook his head.  “Thanks, luv.  Right. Leave it up to me.”  He thought for a moment and decided.  “I’d like to be surprised, if you don’t mind.  We’ve got one name chosen already, which can be for a boy or girl.  I guess we’ll just have to find two more.”  He looked up at Sherlock, who smiled down at him and nodded in agreement. 

Dr Fulton shrugged.  “Whatever you want is fine with me.  Let’s get this show on the road and see how these beauties have grown.”  John sucked in a breath and moaned in discomfort as the obstetrician proceeded to smear what felt like freezing cold gel on his stomach. 

“Why don’t you ever warm that stuff up first?  Do you put it in the fridge on purpose?  Christ!” 

“John, it’s not cold. It’s body temperature. See, there’s where it’s warmed. You’re imagining things.”  Sherlock frowned down on John.  
  
“Well, have it smeared on your belly, then.  See how you like it.” John huffed petulantly at his bond mate, who simply rolled his eyes.

Laughing, the obstetrician didn’t answer as he continued with the procedure, watching carefully for changes.  John and Sherlock watched, too, as their babies appeared one by one on the computer screen.  It always seemed miraculous that these tiny things were growing inside of him, completely dependent on him. 

“Each one looks great, John.  They’re about seven to eight inches long at this point. Right on schedule and growing well.”  He put the transducer away and cleaned up the gel from John’s belly.  Before he could sit up, Dr Fulton stopped him. 

“Wait just a moment.  We should be able to hear their heartbeats at this stage.”  The obstetrician took out his stethoscope and listened carefully in various places on John’s belly.  He then handed the stethoscope to John but held the chestpiece to one spot on John’s abdomen.  John listened and his breath caught at the sound of a heartbeat.  Then Dr Fulton moved the chestpiece to another location and John smiled when he could hear another.  It was moved one more time, down to the side of John’s belly and he could hear the third heartbeat, though it seemed a bit fainter. 

The obstetrician chuckled. “That’s your shy baby.  The one who was hiding from us at first.  He or she is tucked at the back of the womb and harder to hear but it’s there.” 

John knew his face must look silly because he was grinning so hard.  “I can now hear what Sherlock’s been hearing since the beginning.  This is brilliant!  Thank, you, David!” 

Dr Fulton couldn’t help but grin back at him.  “I love this part almost as much as the delivery.  It’s amazing to hear their heartbeats for the first time.” 

John couldn’t help but agree and was determined to find his own stethoscope at home so he could do this every day. 

The week before the ceremony John’s bonding suit was finally finished.  The doctor hoped he wouldn’t grow too much more before the ceremony the following week though Andre had added extra buttons so he could expand the waist a few more inches if necessary.  The triplets were growing at a steady rate, which made Dr Fulton extremely happy but John was alarmed at how fast he was expanding.  Most people he encountered thought he was ready to pop and wouldn’t believe him when he told them he wasn’t even six months along. 

Despite his expanding belly, the suit fit perfectly and looked very good, though he thought he appeared bloated.  Sherlock had rolled his eyes and told him he looked incredibly sexy.  John could tell that his bond mate barely remembered at the last minute not to call him an idiot, but it was strongly assumed. 

Incredibly touched by the spontaneity and complete honesty of the compliment, which was just so Sherlock, John was overwhelmed.  He’d been feeling so ugly and fat lately and, even with the implied insult or maybe because of it, Sherlock had just made John feel cherished and loved.  Sherlock was rewarded handsomely for his back-handed gallantry later that night. 

All the major preparations for the bonding ceremony were finally complete and they were just waiting for the rehearsal and then actual ceremony.  Their guests from out of town, Starr, Ben and Bill arrived three days before the ceremony and John invited them over to the flat for dinner.  It had been over a year since he’d last seen them and he wanted the chance to catch up before the craziness of the bonding ceremony overwhelmed everyone. 

He hoped he’d still have enough in common with them.  So much had happened in that year and the direction of his life had changed so dramatically.  But nothing could change what they’d once been to each other even though their paths were now diverging so radically.  They had all saved each other’s lives many times and that created a connection that could never be severed, no matter how much time had passed. 

Their guests arrived promptly.  Mrs Hudson let them in and directed them upstairs.  Starr was the first to enter and see John as he waited nervously to greet his friends. 

“Oh my god, Doc!  You’re enormous!  Did you swallow a Land Rover?  I think you maybe swallowed three!  Oh, come here, little man.”  It was like they’d never been apart.  John was happily swept up in her embrace and returned it with interest.  Starr wasn’t much taller than he was and had a very solid build, just like his.  Her hair was still deep auburn and her plain features glowed with happiness to see him. 

Henderson was his usual taciturn self but he also hugged John tightly.  The man was so tall he’d had to duck to get through the door.  John’s former commanding officer grinned as he patted the omega’s belly and spoke with his strong Scandinavian accent.  “It’s good to see you again, Doc.  Congratulations to you and your bond mate.” 

Then Murray entered and John put out his hand to greet the man who’d saved his life in Afghanistan.  “Thanks for coming, Bill.  It means a lot to me to have you here.” 

Murray took John’s hand but turned it into a hug.  “Doc, you don’t know what it means to me to have been invited to your bonding ceremony.  Thanks, mate.”  John hugged the man back strongly.  The three people who meant the world to him were there.  They would be meeting his family and participating in the most important ceremony of his life.  For once, things were going according to plan and John couldn’t be more pleased. 

Grinning he pulled back and gestured to Sherlock, who had moved to stand by the kitchen.  “Everyone, this is my bond mate, Sherlock Holmes.  Sherlock, this is Starr Forrester, Ben Henderson and Bill Murray.” 

John had been somewhat nervous about introducing them to Sherlock but he shouldn’t have been.  Sherlock was gracious and welcoming, and looked confused when John asked if he should be looking under the bed for a pod. 

Starr laughed.  “It’s all right, Doc.  Your beautiful alpha—and he is much more stunning in real life than photos – is trying to impress your friends.  I wouldn’t discourage that if I were you.” 

John continued to eye Sherlock suspiciously while the alpha in question stared back innocently.  “Well, if you truly knew Sherlock, you’d realise this is very unusual.” 

He grinned at his sentinel, who rolled his eyes.  “However, I was taught never to look a gift horse in the mouth and so thank you, my love.”  Sherlock snorted indelicately but couldn’t help returning John’s smile. 

Sherlock took drink orders and went off to prepare them while John showed their guests through the entire flat.  They were suitably impressed but once Starr began to make appreciative noises at the still unfinished nursery and started to cuddle the stuffed animals strewn about, Ben and Bill slowly backed out of the room and quickly wandered away. 

Laughing, Starr put down the animal she’d picked up and pulled John close.  “I knew that would get them out of here.  I wanted to talk to you alone for a moment to tell you I’m so proud of you, Doc.  I thought at first that you’d made a mistake to choose this path.  I was afraid that your head had been turned by a pretty face and that you’d regret this decision.  I know how addicted you are to danger, but I can see how happy you are with your alpha.  I can also see how happy he is with you, too.” 

John gave his good friend and mentor a grateful hug. “Thank you, Starr. I am happier than I’ve ever been and it’s entirely down to Sherlock. And believe me; since I’ve teamed up with him, I’ve had enough excitement to keep the worst adrenalin junkie in the world deliriously high.  I’ll have to tell you about our last big case and you’ll see what I mean.” 

She agreed to hear the story and, arm and arm, they went in search of the others.  Ben and Bill were talking to a fascinated Sherlock about various types of modern weaponry by the time John and Starr made it back to the main part of the flat.  John handed Starr her drink and they joined in the conversation. 

After a few minutes, Starr changed the subject.  “Weapons are boring. Stop talking shop right now.  It’s been years since I was last in London.  Ben and I are going to take a tour tomorrow.  I’ve asked Bill to tag along but he’s got a friend he wants to meet for lunch.” 

Taking a sip of his decidedly non-alcoholic drink, John nodded.  “Sounds like fun.  Sorry I can’t guide you but I’m not supposed to do anything like that right now.” 

Reaching over and patting his stomach, Starr laughed.  “It’s okay, Doc.  We didn’t expect you to be our tour guide.  I thought maybe your Sherlock might be willing to show us some of the more interesting and unusual places, though.  If he’s not too busy.” 

Sherlock’s eyes began to gleam and John shook his head in mock despair.  “If it’s anything to do with horrific crime, Sherlock’s your man.”  He turned to his bond mate.  “Would you be willing to show them around tomorrow?  Just don’t forget about the bonding ceremony rehearsal at three.” 

Surprising John completely, Sherlock leaned over and kissed him tenderly.  “I shall endeavour to recall the rehearsal.”  He turned to the others.  “What time should I come round to your hotel?”  While they hashed out their schedule for the next day, John hauled himself up and got dinner on the table. 

The evening was a great success.  Sherlock had cooked a simple pasta dish that was one of John’s favourites and though John couldn’t eat a lot, he knew the others enjoyed the meal greatly. 

John had purposely invited his friends over to their flat so they could talk about old times.  The missions they had done together were all classified and it would have been impossible to relax and talk openly in a restaurant.  Sherlock had a very high security clearance and had also signed the Official Secrets Act, so they could speak freely. 

After a couple of hours of reminiscing about past missions so incredibly dangerous that Sherlock’s eyes were practically bugging out of his head, John asked, “So now that you’ve retired from the military, how’s business?  You’re doing hostage negotiation and rescue, right?  That’s what you mentioned when you tried to hire me last year.” 

As usual, Forrester answered for her sentinel.  “Business is good.  It’s much safer than what we’d been doing before and we can pick and choose whom we work for, as well.  My favourite jobs are when we can rescue children who have been abducted from their custodial parent and taken to another country.  I’d do those for free if I could.”  Her smile had a feral edge to it.  “It’s very rewarding on many levels.” 

Sherlock frowned.  “Wait a moment.  They tried to recruit you? Last year? When?” 

“Yes, Starr asked me to join them late last summer.  But I turned them down because I’d fallen in love with you and didn’t want to leave you.”  John batted his eyelashes with mock adoration at his alpha and smiled in delight at the slight blush that spread across Sherlock’s cheeks. 

“I have to say I’m grateful you didn’t accept their offer of employment.” 

John laughed and leaned over to kiss the detective but jerked when he began to feel movement in his belly. “Oh.  That was strange.” 

Starr reached over and put a hand on his stomach.  “Did you feel one of the babies move?  Can I feel it too?” 

Regretfully, John shook his head. “They won’t start kicking so you can feel it for about another month or so.  I can feel them moving, though and I think one of them is now sitting on my bladder.  Excuse me, please.”  Getting up took some effort but he could still do it without help.  He heard Starr laugh as he made his way to the loo and he gave her a two fingered salute before he disappeared into the hall. 

Their guests lingered over coffee as the evening slowly wore down.  As they regretfully got up to leave, Ben stopped.  “Doc, I wanted to ask you something before I forgot.  Do you know an alpha named Sebastian Moran?  He showed up looking for work a few months ago and came highly recommended as a top marksman by some of our contacts.  Moran spent a few days with us and then started asking our team members about you.  He knew your real name but didn’t appear to know your code name. 

“Since Starr, Bill and I are the only ones who know both, none of our people said anything to him.  However, they all came straight to me about it because they knew something wasn’t right.  I think he suspects what your code name is but wasn’t completely sure and was there specifically to gather intel.  Why, I don’t know.” 

Startled, John looked over at Sherlock, who shrugged.  John answered, “The name sounds somewhat familiar but I don’t think I’ve met him. I wonder why he just didn’t come to me if he knows my full name.” 

Ben looked grim.  “He’s bad news, my friend.  He’s a sniper and one of the best, but he was dishonourably discharged from the British army.  He’s got a bad reputation as a gambler and spent a lot of time in India where he illegally hunted endangered animals.  He’s a wanted man and we sent him packing once we checked him out.  Any idea why he might be interested in you?” 

Shaking his head, John couldn’t imagine why Moran would be asking after him.   “I’m sure I don’t have a clue.  Sherlock?” 

“I’ve not heard of him at all but I’ll ask Mycroft to look into it.” 

Starr sat forward.  “Doc, I admit I read him with my empathy while he was there.  He’s not a sentinel or guide and didn’t try to hide his feelings.  He has a strong, personal animosity against you for some reason.  He wants you dead.  Are you sure you don’t know him?” 

Frowning, John shook his head in confusion.  “Like I said, his name sounds familiar but I’m sure I don’t know him.  I don’t understand why he would hate me.”  John wracked his brain but couldn’t come up with anything.  Maybe something would occur to him later. 

Ben nodded.  “Well, I just thought I’d let you know.  It’s always best to be forewarned if possible.” 

John thanked him and their guests prepared to return to their hotel.  Sherlock promised to pick them up early for their tour of crime-ridden London and they saw their guests into a taxi before they headed up for bed. 

John barely woke when Sherlock kissed him goodbye early the next morning before he left to take Starr and Ben sightseeing.  The doctor was blearily having his first cup of tea when his mother arrived with her arms full of groceries.  Jenny made John a substantial breakfast and fussed when he could only eat a small amount.  She then tidied the kitchen and started to hoover and dust the flat while she insisted John put his feet up.  His ankles had started to swell somewhat but he felt fine.  It was normal to have some swelling and Dr Fulton wasn’t the least bit worried about it. 

Jenny was planning to move into the flat in two weeks and John knew she intended to have everything perfect.  To make things easy on herself, she had begun to move small things into the bedroom in the expanded flat and had made up the bed with her own sheets and duvet.  The kitchen was stocked with non-perishables and she was planning on staying over that night in order to help John prepare for the bonding ceremony the next day. 

Despite his protests that he’d been dressing and taking care of himself for years, she insisted that she would stay and he didn’t have the energy to fight with her over it.  It was much easier to give in and just go with it.  He was glad that his mum wanted to be so helpful, especially when he was beginning to have some trouble doing simple things like bending over to pick something up from the floor. 

He fell asleep after lunch instead of taking a walk to Regent’s Park as he’d intended and woke abruptly when Sherlock breezed in about an hour before they were to meet at Grand-maman’s townhouse for the rehearsal.  John’s mum had already left, so John quickly threw on some clothes and they took a taxi to the house.  They were there with plenty of time to spare and everyone in the bonding party spent some time chatting and catching up before Moira called everyone to attention. 

“All right, everyone.  Outside!  We have reservations for dinner at 5:30 and a lot to get through this afternoon.  I want to get this done right and on time.”  John thought she would have made an excellent sergeant in the army. 

The back garden was spacious for a house in the city and surrounded by tall stone walls.  It had been beautifully landscaped and reminded John of the house in Giverny.  Gorgeous varieties of daffodils were blooming everywhere.  A gazebo with a narrow pergola had been built years ago at the back of the garden and was completely covered with a combination of wisteria and climbing roses. None of the flowers were currently blooming but the leaves had begun to bud.  The flowers and buds were the perfect representative of the renewal and fecundity of the season that was also symbolised by John’s pregnancy. 

The actual ceremony was to take place inside the gazebo.  Moira and James stood at the back of the building, facing the audience, who were to be seated in the chairs that had already been set up on the lawn.  John and Sherlock were placed just in front of Moira and James and opposite of each other.  Lestrade, Siger and Mycroft stood to Sherlock’s left and Starr, Ben and Bill were on John’s right. 

The weather was fine and the rehearsal went off with only a few hitches.  Of course, Sherlock and John had forgotten to choose or write any vows ahead of time.  But Moira had expected that and had brought some standard, traditional vows for them to recite.  There were some moments of hilarity when the vows required that John, as the omega, had the duty to ‘obey’ his alpha, but otherwise all went well. 

Everyone cheered when Moira finally announced they were done for the day and they all ended up at Angelo’s for an early dinner.  John’s mum, Monique, and Grand-maman Holmes stayed at the house to put the finishing touches on the sumptuous bonding breakfast and to get the place ready for the ceremony and reception the following morning.  John and Sherlock had decided the bonding breakfast would take place directly after a short reception, despite it being traditional to have it on the following day.  John wasn’t sure how much celebrating he could take at that stage of his pregnancy and Dr Fulton had agreed. 

Sherlock and John had reserved the restaurant for the entire evening but didn’t plan to stay very late.  Though his health was excellent and he had plenty of energy, John didn’t want to stress things.  It was important that he get his rest, especially as he wasn’t going to be allowed a lie-in the following morning and the next day was going to be very busy. 

Drink flowed freely and though John and Sherlock both abstained from the alcohol, most of the guests were happy to take advantage of the excellent wines offered by Angelo’s cellar.  John sipped his water and enjoyed the company of his friends and family with a light heart.  He wasn’t nervous about the next day at all and was very much looking forward to spending more time celebrating with everyone.  Nobody would think twice if he spent most of his time on the sofa at Grand-maman’s house.  He and Sherlock spoke quietly together for a time about what they expected to happen the following day while the others celebrated, drank and ate Angelo’s excellent food. 

As he sat absorbing the atmosphere of fun and excitement being generated, John felt a quivering in his belly again, but this time quite a bit stronger.  It seemed as if one of the babies was shifting around, which was what was indeed happening.  It was thrilling but unfortunately whichever baby it was had decided to sit hard on his bladder. 

Sherlock turned to him immediately, obviously picking up on his discomfort.  “Are you all right?” 

Sighing, he smiled wanly and shook his head.  “I’m fine but one of your enormous babies is dancing on my bladder.  I have to go to the loo.  Be back shortly.” 

Grunting only slightly as he stood, John gave a two fingered salute in response to Lestrade’s laughingly rude comment about tiny bladders in tiny people and made his way to the gent’s at the back of the restaurant.  He was washing his hands in the sink when he heard the door open.  Expecting Sherlock, he turned with a smile only to find Colin Fitzhugh standing there, pointing a gun at him. 

“Keep your mouth shut and come with me. I’ll shoot you if you try anything.”  The man looked positively mental.  His eyes were wild and his hair was lank and greasy. 

John stared at the gun for a shocked moment with raised eyebrows.  He then looked up at the former Alpha Sentinel Prime of London Sentinel Tower and barked out an incredulous laugh. “You cannot possibly be serious.  There are  ** _five_**  sentinels in the other room and I’m sure each one has heard your threats by now.” 

Fitzhugh smirked nastily.  “I doubt it.  I’ve got a couple of white noise machines turned on in this place and your guests are making quite a row in there.  I seriously doubt they’re able to hear anything.  Now move your arse and head for the back of the building.  I’ve a car waiting in the alley and don’t try anything or I will shoot you in the leg and carry you out of here.” 

Shaking his head in amazement, John simply stood there.  “Give it up now, Fitzhugh.  You should know by now this will never work.” 

The man’s face turned red in frustration and he hissed at John.  “You should have been mine!!  I should have been the one to put that baby inside you!”  Before John could react Fitzhugh backhanded him hard and then stepped quickly out of reach.  The man was obviously crazy but he wasn’t stupid and obviously knew what John was capable of doing, even at nearly six months along. 

Stunned, John wiped the blood from his split lip and narrowed his eyes dangerously. He was furious but needed to control himself.  It was important to keep Fitzhugh’s attention strictly on him in order to buy himself and his alpha some time. 

“You lost any rights you might have thought you had to me when you fought Sherlock and he defeated you!  I’ve been bonded and bred and I will never be yours!  Leave now and I won’t prosecute.  If you continue to threaten me, I’m pretty sure you won’t leave this place alive.  Now make your choice!” 

As he spoke, he raised his voice, knowing that Sherlock would pick up on his emotions of alarm and anger, even if he couldn’t actually hear him.  He wanted his alpha to interfere before things went too far and before John had to use his empathy on this nutter.  Some instinct was telling him that, unlike earlier, using it in such a negative way at this particular stage in his pregnancy could endanger his babies and it should only be used as a last resort. 

Sneering, Fitzhugh gestured with the gun.  “I have made my choice. You’re going to belong to me.  We’ll get rid of that other alphas’ spawn, first, though.  Now move!  Go to the back entrance.  There’s a car waiting in the alley and I’ve got friends with me so don’t you dare try anything!” 

The threats to his children made him want to strike out and kill the alpha.  Unfortunately, Fitzhugh was extremely careful not to get within arm’s length of John.  The doctor reluctantly complied and opened the door to the loo.  He paused as he looked to his right. He could hear the party still going but couldn’t see anyone from his location.  The kitchen entrance was down and across the hall but no one was visible, either.  The exit to the alley was to his left and he turned that way as the noise from the party ratcheted up. 

Where was Sherlock?  Was John mistaken in hoping the detective had felt his distress?  Could he delay or disable Fitzhugh without getting shot?  Fitzhugh was too far away for John to reach and there was no way he could move fast enough to attack.  He would just have to trust in his alpha and hope for the best. 

The doctor reached the door, pushed it open and walked out of the building.  It was rather dark in the alley but he could see the car that Fitzhugh had promised parked to his left, blocking the alley.  A man wearing a hat was standing beside the driver’s side of the vehicle. 

Just as he stepped through the door, he picked up a strong mental warning from Sherlock and ducked as quickly as he could manage away and to the left, nearly overbalancing.  His alpha was hiding behind the door and as Fitzhugh rushed forward to try to catch John, Sherlock shoved it closed with all his considerable strength, catching the other alpha full on, knocking the gun away and hitting Fitzhugh with so much force it threw him back inside the restaurant. 

John saw movement from the corner of his eye and straightened in time to see the man who had been standing by the car rushing toward them.  The man removed his hat as he ran and John relaxed when he recognised Lestrade’s grey hair. 

Sherlock picked up the fallen weapon and pulled John tight to him as the door swung open again.  John tensed, expecting to have to confront Fitzhugh but it was only Ben with Starr and Bill behind him.  The enormous sentinel was carrying a bleeding and limp Fitzhugh by the collar of his coat.  The man was nearly unconscious and his face had been badly smashed by the heavy door.  His forehead was growing a very large bump, his nose was clearly broken and his eyes had begun to swell shut while incoherent moans issued from his split and bloody lips. 

Sherlock was running his hands over John, making sure he was uninjured.  “Are you all right, John?  I ‘heard’ your distress right away and figured out what was happening.  You did an excellent job keeping Fitzhugh distracted.  It gave us time to arrange this ambush after Lestrade and I disabled the men Fitzhugh left in the car.” 

The doctor turned his attention to his alpha and hugged him back.  “I’m fine, luv. He didn’t really hurt me much.”  John grinned up at Ben.  “That was quick work!  I’m very impressed.” 

Ben returned the grin as he snapped handcuffs that he’d got from Lestrade onto the slowly reviving Fitzhugh.  “Your alpha gives orders surprisingly well.  Maybe we should recruit the both of you for our team.  We’d be an unstoppable force.”  John laughed as Sherlock rolled his eyes. 

Mycroft and Siger arrived and looked Fitzhugh up and down.  Moira and James were beside him.  Mycroft glanced briefly over at the two Tower representatives.  “Well, Colin’s friends are restrained and will shortly be under arrest.  I don’t suppose you want Fitzhugh to go into the Tower’s custody, do you Moira?” 

She shook her head.  “Absolutely not.  I think I’ll let New Scotland Yard deal with him.  It’s an automatic twenty years for injuring and trying to abduct a pregnant omega, I believe.  Isn’t that true, Greg?” 

Lestrade nodded.  “Yes, indeed.  Let’s get him to hospital first and then we can charge him.  Do you need a doctor, John? That lip looks pretty bad and you’ve got quite a bruise forming on the side of your face.” 

Still held tight to Sherlock’s side, John reached up to feel the swollen and painful injury to his face and mouth.  His lip was still bleeding.  “Well, damn.  I’ll look like shite in the bonding ceremony photos tomorrow.” 

Sherlock huffed.  “I don’t think you should worry about that, John.  Let’s get you to hospital and then I’m taking you home.  You can give a statement later.” 

Back inside the restaurant, Harry and Clara fussed over John and made him sit while Angelo brought a towel filled with ice, all the while apologising profusely for what happened.  One of the kitchen staff had been bribed by Fitzhugh to allow him inside.  Angelo had been horrified and had immediately fired the employee but Lestrade had also arrested him for aiding an attempted armed kidnapping. 

John reassured Angelo that he didn’t blame him and thanked him for the ice pack as a taxi pulled up to take him to hospital.  He protested but Sherlock insisted that they take no chances with their babies so John gave in with a small grumble. 

Everything was fine and John only needed a few sutures to his lip.  The bruising and swelling were relatively minor.  However, Fitzhugh had a slight concussion, severely broken nose, black eyes and broken fingers where the door slammed into the hand that had been holding the weapon. 

Lestrade had Fitzhugh transported to NSY once he was treated.  John insisted they follow so he could give his statement and get it over with straight away.  He had much more important things to worry about at the moment and didn’t want to have to concern himself with Fitzhugh any longer. 

John’s face ached where Fitzhugh had hit him but it was a minor irritant that he could easily ignore.  What he couldn’t ignore was the sight of his nemesis sitting in an interrogation room.  The man looked a mess with a large plaster across his grotesquely swollen nose, blood all down the front of his shirt and his eyes nearly puffed shut. 

As he and Sherlock watched from another room through the observation window, Lestrade tried vainly to get the man to talk.  But Fitzhugh just sat mute.  Finally, the DI gave up and left him to the tender mercies of Donovan, and joined Sherlock and John in the observation room.  White noise machines were running so that Fitzhugh couldn’t hear them. 

“He’s a nasty piece of work.  We don’t really need his confession since his co-conspirators revealed everything in the hopes of getting reduced sentences.”  Greg turned to John and put a hand on his shoulder.  “Fitzhugh literally had a dungeon in France prepared to imprison you.  He also had a doctor on standby, ready to abort your triplets and then he planned keep you confined until you went into heat again.  He apparently told his mates that the distance would break your bond with Sherlock and he could then establish a bond with you.  They arranged to smuggle him into the country, which is why we didn’t know he was here.  Why they went along with it is anyone’s guess.  He doesn’t look like the type of bloke who inspires much loyalty.  I expect he offered them a lot of money.” 

John shuddered and he could feel Sherlock tensing up, though nothing showed on the alpha’s face.  He stared back at the man in the other room and wondered how long Fitzhugh was going to last in prison.  It was hard enough to go to jail for anyone, but it was especially difficult for a sentinel.   With no guide and five enhanced senses, it was likely the man would go mad within a short period of time unless he was given drugs to suppress his senses.  The side effects of those were not pleasant, though. 

John almost pitied him but then thought of what the nutter had planned for his children and he hardened his heart.  He leaned into his alpha and felt the detective relax somewhat. 

“I just want him out of our lives forever.  Let’s get the statement out of the way, Greg.  I’m tired and want to go home.” 

Lestrade agreed.  “You’ve got a big day tomorrow so we’ll make this quick.  You know what to do.”  He led them to his office and took John’s statement.  Then thankfully, they were on their way home. 

Jenny fussed over John’s face once they were at the flat but all he wanted was to get to bed. He actually managed to get undressed before he fell asleep, which he considered a triumph at that point.  He was out like a light almost the moment his head touched the pillow. 

It seemed like he’d just closed his eyes when Sherlock was gently shaking him.  John groaned piteously and cracked open one eye reluctantly to see his bond mate was already dressed for the ceremony.  He looked fabulous, of course but John just shut his eye and tried to ignore him. 

“Time to get up, John.  I allowed you to sleep as late as I could, but you have to start getting ready for the bonding ceremony now or we’ll be late.” 

Groaning, John turned his face back into the pillow.  “Let me sleep. They can’t start without us.” 

He heard a snort of laughter and then the delicious scent of coffee wafted under his nose.  His eyes shot open without his permission.  “Is that real coffee?  None of that decaffeinated stuff?” 

“Yes, and you can have some if you get up now.  Dr Fulton said it wouldn’t hurt you or the babies to have some caffeine.”  Sherlock backed away and held the mug just out of John’s reach with a smile. 

Grunting with effort, John hoisted himself up to sit on the side of the bed.  “Okay, I’m up.  Give it over, you.”  Sherlock handed him the mug and John sipped the steaming beverage gratefully.  It stung his split lip but it was totally worth it.  After so many months of drinking only decaffeinated teas and coffee, it tasted like ambrosia. 

Sighing heavily after finishing his drink, John finally roused enough to get himself showered, shaved and dressed with help from Sherlock and his mum.  He had to let out the waist of his trousers by two buttons and was pretty sure that if they’d waited another week, he’d not fit them at all. 

John was still so sleepy that he didn’t remember the ride in the taxi over to the townhouse and finally woke completely once he’d had another cup of coffee.  There was no time for breakfast before the ceremony was to start.  He hadn’t really felt nervous until he’d looked out over the garden to see everyone in attendance. 

The weather was perfect.  It was a cool day with no clouds in the sky and the bright March sun kept the temperature comfortable enough that most of the guests didn’t need a coat.  Grand-maman Holmes was seated right in front and surrounding her were Violet, Anthea, Mrs Hudson, David Fulton and Monique.  He could also see Mum, Harry and Clara, as well as Charles Dean, Tom Elliot and Ailbert Mitchell.  John smiled to see that Dean was seated beside a tall, handsome alpha who had her arm possessively around his shoulders.  Beside them John could see that both Tom and Ailbert were with their sentinels.  John had never seen either man before but he looked forward to meeting them at the bonding breakfast.  He’d invited Peggy and her bond mate Tim, but they had regretfully declined.  Tim had had to travel to a work related convention and Peggy had no one to watch the kids. 

Mentally John shook himself.  There was no reason for him to feel anxious or odd.  They were just merely formalising their bond in front of their family and friends.  As far as he was concerned, he and Sherlock were as bonded as it was possible to be and a ceremony wasn’t really necessary.  But Sherlock had wanted this because it meant a lot to Grand-maman Holmes and so John had agreed gladly.  His heart swelled with love for his alpha and he looked forward to the ritual. 

But now that it was time, he found himself starting to feel inexplicably nervous.  He glanced over to his right.  Sherlock was standing beside the doorway opposite him and looked absolutely gorgeous and completely calm.  At a signal from Moira, they were to advance down the opposite sides of the garden with their bonding companions following behind, then meet in front of the gazebo and enter together where Moira and James were waiting for them.  Their bonding companions would follow closely and line up behind them.  John and Sherlock were to then face each other and recite their vows.  John couldn’t remember what vows they’d finally chosen but it really didn’t matter to him.  He just had to repeat whatever Moira said when it was time. 

Ben, Starr and Bill were comforting presences beside him as he felt his nerves begin to ratchet up.  It was ridiculous but he couldn’t help it.  He also felt jittery and a bit sick which was probably due to all the caffeine he’d had and no food.  John snuck another admiring glance at Sherlock and missed the signal from Moira.  Starr poked him in the side and whispered at him.  “Move it, Doc! You’re holding everyone up.” 

Startled, John walked quickly and managed to meet up with Sherlock at the base of the gazebo at the proper time.  John gave Sherlock a cheeky grin as the alpha rolled his eyes while suppressing a smile.  They turned as one to climb the three steps and enter the gazebo.  Starr followed and stood just behind John while Ben and Bill stood behind her on the stair steps.  Lestrade was behind Sherlock, with Mycroft and Siger behind Greg.  Starr and Greg both had the rings that would be exchanged during the ceremony. 

John’s nervousness evaporated but he suddenly had trouble keeping focused and felt odd, almost hyper alert.  Moira began speaking but he didn’t listen closely to what she was saying.  He caught the words “family”, “love” and “devotion” but they ran together and made no sense.  Something was happening and he couldn’t figure out what it might be.  His eyes darted frantically around as he tried to see what was going on. 

He glanced up in dismay at Sherlock to find that his alpha’s eyebrows were drawn down in a frown of confusion as the detective recited firmly, “I promise to love, respect, cherish and protect him as his sentinel, his alpha and his bond mate as long as we both shall live.”  Shocked, John realised he hadn’t heard a thing that had been said prior to that. 

Stealing a quick glance at Moira and James and then the guests, he could tell they didn’t feel anything at all but had noticed he’d been wool gathering.  He forced himself to pay close attention and ignore the strange feelings just in time to hear Moira say, “John Watson, do you promise to take Sherlock Holmes as your friend, your alpha, your lover, the father of your children and your bond mate?  To keep him as yours in times of plenty and in times of want?  Will you care for him in times of sickness and times of health?  Will you support him in times of failure and times of success?  Do you promise to love, respect, cherish, and protect him as his guide, his omega and his bond mate as long as you both shall live?” 

John blinked at Sherlock as the significance of the spoken words echoed around inside his head and sank in.  They had not had such a depth of meaning when they’d rehearsed them the previous day.  He could feel a sense of power building and surging inside himself and it took over without John’s conscious control. 

Without thinking and without being instructed, John reached out to take Sherlock’s hands.  The alpha blinked at John in surprise at the change of the ritual but went along trustingly and squeezed his omega’s fingers tightly.  Again, without his conscious direction, John felt his empathy extend out to Sherlock and wrap them both tightly together the way it had the very first time they’d kissed.  What was doubly odd, however, was that a great deal of the empathy seemed to be coming from the babies inside him. 

Dismayed, John couldn’t help but wonder.  Was this the danger alluded to in the ancient books about the early awakening of the unborn?  Could this be hurting them somehow?  He stared up at his alpha in dread.  What had he done by disregarding that warning?  Sherlock’s eyes opened wide in shock as he finally felt that something peculiar was happening.  Moira and James were watching them both in consternation at the impromptu change in the ceremony and John could tell that James had finally sensed something abnormal was going on. 

The light in the gazebo changed suddenly to a pale blue as soon as John took Sherlock’s hands.  All the sentinels and guides in attendance were clearly startled and glanced around at the change in atmosphere while the other guests began to sense something, but weren’t quite sure what it was.

John looked out toward their friends and family and gasped as he saw his wolf appear out of thin air and begin to walk sedately toward the gazebo.  He watched as Anthea, Tom and Ailbert along with their sentinels sat up in surprise when they also saw the spirit animal manifest.  Above him John heard a cry and raised his eyes to see Sherlock’s black eagle circling down, his incredibly wide wingspan nearly eclipsing the light coming into the gazebo.  He settled down at the foot of the stairs and rustled his feathers to wait for John’s wolf, who seated herself beside the bird.  Both then stared up at him with inscrutable expressions while John gazed back in complete incomprehension. 

Moira and James moved closer to John and Sherlock in order to peer in fascination at the spirit animals.  Just then, two more animals appeared and walked side by side toward the gazebo.  One was a Siberian tiger and the other a red fox and John recognised Starr and Ben’s spirit animals.  He heard a soft intake of breath from Moira as a leopard and a red deer arrived and progressed toward the gazebo.  A golden eagle and a peregrine falcon both soared in and also settled on the lawn in front of John and Sherlock.  They were Siger and Mycroft’s spirit guides.   

The golden eagle moved over to sit next to an otter John had not noticed before and decided it must belong to Anthea.  The peregrine was standing beside a stoat that John knew must be Violet's spirit guide.  He wondered if she'd ever seen it or even knew that it was hers.  More animals joined them and he guessed they belonged to Tom and Ailbert and their sentinels.  In total, John counted fifteen spirit guides.  Could the fifteenth belong to Charles' companion? Was she a sentinel?  He knew it wasn't Greg's, Bill's or Mrs Hudson's. Actually, it could belong to anyone nearby or even one of the serving staff.  It would make sense that someone in that profession might have some enhanced senses.  But John dropped that thought as his attention was drawn back to his guests.

Lestrade, along with all the other non-sentinels/non-guides in the group were staring at the bottom of the steps and looking shocked but not frightened.  Could they also see the spirit animals? 

John’s wolf spoke up, her eyes dancing with laughter.   _‘To answer all your questions, yes, your guests can see us and yes, they can hear us, as well.  And your little ones are fine.  They only desire to participate and contribute as fully as possible in this joining of your lives, which is only fitting since they are your children._

 _‘As your spirit guides, we simply wished to witness your bonding ceremony, little brother.  We are proud of you both.  Please, proceed with your ritual._ ’ 

John and Sherlock both stood gaping in surprise for a few moments until Moira touched John on his shoulder and brought his attention back to her.  Her smile was a bit strained but genuine.  “Shall we do as she suggests and continue?” 

John looked up at Sherlock to see a wry smile on his alpha’s face and he couldn’t help but return it.  Taking a deep breath, John nodded in agreement and finally was able to respond to Moira’s earlier question.  He was not surprised when his voice shook with deep emotion as he looked straight into Sherlock’s eyes. 

“I promise to love, respect, cherish and protect him as his guide, his omega and his bond mate.  He is mine and I am his, in this life and the next.  There will never be another.”  It took him a moment to realise that he hadn’t repeated exactly what Moira had said but his words echoed the promise he’d made to Sherlock in the spirit world all those months ago when they’d come together for the first time in their shared dream. 

Moira nodded and proclaimed quietly, “And so it shall be, for all time.” 

She then stepped back as James moved forward and gestured to Starr and Lestrade to bring out the rings.  The DI looked over his shoulder with wide, distrustful eyes at all the animals arrayed around him but handed the ring over to James without hesitation.  Starr did the same but her eyes were sparkling with excitement.  She whispered in John’s ear before she stepped back.  “Never a dull moment around you, Doc.” 

John couldn’t help the snort of laughter but covered it with a cough.  He still got a slightly stern look from James, though, before the man continued. 

“These rings symbolise the unending love and devotion you have for one another.  They are also a constant sign of dedication and commitment to your relationship.  Look on these rings whenever you experience difficult times and remember what you meant to each other at this very moment.  Look on these rings when you celebrate a victory or mourn a loss and remember that you belong together.  And look on these rings whenever you bring a new life into the world and remember the love and respect you have for one another.” 

James took the ring from Lestrade and gave it to the detective.  “Sherlock, repeat after me.  John, I have chosen you alone, above all others, to be my bond mate.  I give you this ring to be a daily reminder of my love and our promises." 

Sherlock repeated the phrase and carefully slid the ring on John’s finger while he looked seriously into his eyes.  John held his breath in wonder as the cool metal warmed to his skin.  A feeling of tenderness, contentment and happiness suffused him and he smiled in delight. 

James turned to Starr and took the ring she held and gave it to John.  He instructed the omega to repeat the same phrase.  Grinning helplessly, John did as he was told and placed the ring onto Sherlock’s finger with a rock steady hand. 

James stepped back and Moira announced loudly, “You are now one.  You may kiss your bond mate!”  A cheer went up from all assembled as John grasped a surprised Sherlock’s lapels and dragged him down for a serious snog.  They separated after a few moments, stared at each other and then both men giggled with relief.   Holding hands, they turned to their applauding guests and assembled spirit animals and bowed. 

The guests were quiet as John’s wolf and Sherlock’s raptor bowed back to them. Then all the other spirit animals followed the action, much to the fascination of everyone present.  Sherlock’s black eagle spread his wings and cocked his head to look at them both with grey-green eyes.   _‘Well done, little brothers and congratulations once again.  I speak for us all when I say we wish you a long, happy life and the joy of many children.  We shall see you again but for now, farewell!’_   With that, all the spirit animals faded away and the bright yellow sunlight poured down once again on the garden and guests. 

They dithered inside the gazebo for a moment, but Starr poked John again and got him moving.  His back was hurting and he needed to sit, so they proceeded down the steps of the gazebo and headed for the house while their guests stood and began to follow slowly, talking animatedly amongst themselves.  The sentinel and guide made it inside before the others and John took the opportunity to try to explain. 

John turned to Sherlock with an apologetic expression.  “I am so sorry I wasn’t paying attention at first, luv. I could feel something was off and it was disorienting.” 

Sherlock stopped him right away with a hand on his shoulder.  “You have nothing to apologise for, John.  I sensed nothing until you took my hands and used your and the children’s empathy to show me what was going on.  What happened was unprecedented and your distraction was completely understandable.” 

They didn’t have a chance to continue their conversation because everyone was finally inside the house and it was time for the reception.  They were enveloped with hugs and congratulations by all their friends and loved ones.  Clara, Harry and Jenny about hugged the stuffing out of him.  They looked amazing in their new outfits and he told them so and how glad he was they could be there for him. 

The elder Mrs Holmes held him tightly for a long time, kissed his cheeks and thanked him for making her Sherlock so happy.  If John’s eyes were glistening a bit after she let him go, no one said anything.  Even Violet gave him a careful hug and kiss on the cheek, which he returned with a smile.  Before she moved on, Violet snuck a quick glance at John’s stomach and when he nodded, she put a gentle hand on it.  When she looked up at him, her eyes were shining. “Thank you, John.  This means a lot to me.”  It was then that he knew things were going to be okay between them. 

Caterers moved about serving mimosas and an assortment of hors d'oeuvres, so John waddled into the parlour to sit down while Sherlock stayed in the hall to speak to their guests.  John’s back and feet were aching and the babies were much more active than usual after all the excitement, so he lowed himself onto the sofa with a grunt.  He sighed in bliss as he kicked off his shoes and put his swollen feet up on the coffee table.  Closing his eyes, he rested his arms around his enormous belly and sighed again.  He could hear music playing from somewhere in the house but he was too tired to investigate if it was live or a recording. 

It was then that he first noticed the photographer that Harry must have hired as someone took a quick picture of him settled on the sofa.  He cracked an eye at the man and smiled as the photographer took another shot of him without his shoes and his feet up on the furniture.  It would probably be a hilarious image and something to look at fondly years from now.  The man was incredibly inconspicuous but seemed to be everywhere at the same time taking loads of snaps, which was the sign of an excellent photographer.  John touched his bruised face carefully and hoped he wouldn’t look too hideous. 

While he rested, Tom and Ailbert walked over to where he was seated on the sofa and he finally had a chance to meet their sentinels.  Marshall Crayford was Tom’s sentinel and Robert Goodman was Ailbert’s.  Both men were very nice and John liked them straight away.  Marshall was an accountant for the Tower while Robert was with the police and had just begun working with the sentinel forces at New Scotland Yard as an administrator.  They chatted for a while until James came over and dragged them away. 

Soon after, Charles and his alpha came to see him.  The omega activist’s scent had changed significantly and John smiled widely when he realised the man was now bonded.  John shook the hand of Charles’ new bond mate, Alyssa Reynolds, and greeted her happily.  Like Dean, she was a journalist but had come from America.  She’d been working in London when she’d met Dean the previous year.  Quickly, John scanned her with his empathy but she had no sentinel attributes.

“Now that you’re bonded, do you expect to stay in London or will you take Charles with you back home?”  John hoped she’d want to stay.  Dean was doing a lot of good things with his advocacy of omega rights and his access to the media. 

“Oh, I plan to stay here.  I can work from anywhere, really.  Anyway, I love London and I would never take Charles away from his work.”  She looked lovingly over at Dean.  “He has done so much to support the rights of omegas and guides.  It would be a crime to make him move away.”  She gave the journalist another fond smile and he returned it, practically glowing with happiness. 

Dean turned to John.  “You should know I’ve been asked to join  _The Guardian_  full time, now.  And I owe it completely to you for allowing me access to your life’s story.  Thank you for that.” 

John deflected the praise.  “Oh, I think it was more your passion for the work and your considerable talents that got you the job.  I have a lot of admiration for you and your willingness to stand up for yourself.  You’re an inspiration to all omegas and that’s what’s got you where you are, not anything I did.” 

They spoke about various things for a while and then John could tell Dean wanted to ask something but was too embarrassed.  He cocked an eyebrow at him.  “What is it you want, Charles?  I can see you want to do or say something.” 

A rather charming blush crept across the man’s face and he huffed an embarrassed laugh.  He looked shyly up at John and asked, “May I touch you?  I know it’s only superstition, but….”  He trailed off and glanced quickly back up at Alyssa.  “We really want a lot of children, too.  Just like you and Sherlock.” 

It was traditional for all omegas attending a bonding ceremony to rub the belly of the newly bonded, pregnant omega.  The act was supposed to give the other omega fertility and good luck.  Also, the superstition indicated that any omega who touched the pregnant one would also become pregnant within the year. 

John laughed and allowed it.  “I hope you and Alyssa will invite me to your bonding ceremony and that I’ll be doing the same thing to you next year.  I’ll have three squalling brats with me, though, so you might want to reconsider.”  He winked at Alyssa as Charles reverently placed a hand on John’s large stomach.  At that very moment, one of the triplets moved enough that Dean could feel it.  He snatched his hand away quickly. 

“What the hell?  Did one of the babies move?  That felt really strange!”  Dean placed his hand back down on John’s stomach but the baby had quietened down. 

John chuckled.  “I’m sure it didn’t feel any stranger to you than it did to me.  Just you wait until it happens to you!  And these little ones haven’t even started really kicking me yet.  That’s not something I’m looking forward to; I can tell you that right now.” 

After John got back from one of his many trips to the loo, the couple had gone onto mingle with the others and Dr Fulton sat down next to him with a huge sigh.  His eyes were sparkling, though.  “Well, that was quite the most incredible bonding ceremony I’ve ever attended.  Supernatural talking spirit animals appearing out of thin air!  That was almost beyond belief yet somehow it’s not surprising that it happened to you and Sherlock.  You two are the most unique individuals I’ve ever met.” 

“They invited themselves and I had nothing to do with it, so you can’t blame me.  I’m just glad they didn’t frighten anyone.”  John smiled wearily at his doctor, who sat up with a sober expression. 

“And just how are you doing, young man?  You look tired.  I heard what happened last night.  Are you feeling any effects from the assault?  How are your feet?”  Before John could answer any of the questions, the obstetrician sat forward and felt John’s ankles and feet.  “They’re a bit more swollen than I like, but you have been on your feet a fair amount today.  I’m glad to see you resting, though.” 

“Thanks.  But seriously, David, I’m fine.  Don’t fuss.  The babies are very active today, though.  I can feel them sliding around and I’m beginning to wonder if they’re part eel or something.  No real kicking so far, though.” 

Dr Fulton hummed a bit and put his hands on John’s stomach and carefully felt around.  “You’ll start feeling them kicking very soon.  You’ve got another appointment next week. We’ll be checking you for gestational diabetes, I think.  Aside from the swollen feet, you’re feeling well?”  He looked at John in concern. 

“Like I just said, I’m fine.  I had a late night and had to get up early this morning.  I’ve not had anything to eat today, either but please don’t worry so much.  I’m being very careful and trying to get enough rest.  I’ve cut back all strenuous activities aside from some short walks a couple times a day.  My mum is moving into the flat soon and between her, Sherlock and Mrs Hudson, I’ll be well cared for.”  David sat back and nodded, satisfied that John was well. 

In what seemed like a very short time but was closer to an hour later, everyone was ushered into the large dining room, which was gorgeously laid out with sparkling china, crystal and silverware.  The simple but elegant three-tiered bonding cake was the focal point of the dining room on its own table set aside for later.  Monique, the elder Mrs Holmes and Jenny had done an incredible job with the food.  John found out later that Violet had also volunteered to help.  Everything was perfect.

The number of guests was small but they had decided on a buffet style of serving for the main courses so there could be a variety of dishes to choose from.  Salad and soup were placed on the table by the serving staff at first and then the buffet was opened.  Monique had prepared Sherlock’s favourite foods and Jenny had done the same for John.  There were some other standard meat dishes like chicken and beef and a wide variety of vegetables.  Finally, there were fruit and numerous types of cheeses available. 

Servants came and went, keeping glasses topped off and removing used plates and cutlery.  Once everyone had eaten, it was time for the cake.  Monique had created a masterpiece.  The top two tiers were rum soaked fruitcake and the lower tier was chocolate, coated skilfully with marzipan and soft icing.  John managed to hoist himself out of the chair and cut the lower two tiers of the cake into slices for their guests, while the top tier was taken away to be wrapped and frozen for the christening of their children.  The fruit cake had been soaked in brandy so John opted for the chocolate, which he enjoyed more anyway. 

All too soon, it was time to go home.  John and Sherlock had not wanted any dancing or gifts, though many people brought greeting cards and had left them on the hall table.  It was late afternoon when John and Sherlock finally got themselves into a taxi and were on their way home. 

John trudged up the steps to the flat with Sherlock’s arm around his shoulders.  He was tired but wide awake.  It was only late afternoon, so he shed his bonding suit and put on his most comfortable clothes before heading for the loo.  While he relieved his much abused bladder, Sherlock had changed out of his suit, fixed some tea and had already put on John’s favourite Dr Who episode.  As John shuffled into the room, the alpha sat down on the sofa and put a pillow in his lap. 

“Come and put your feet here and I’ll rub them for you.  They must be killing you.” 

John groaned as he lowed himself onto his side and slid his swollen feet onto the pillow.  “Oh, you have no idea.  Thank you so much, luv.”  He sighed in contentment as Sherlock began to carefully rub and massage his sore and puffy toes. 

“Christ, it’s good to be home and out of that suit.  I’m not used to standing that long any more.”  He looked away from Dr Who being chased by Daleks and up at Sherlock, who raised his eyebrows to encourage John’s question. 

“So, what did you think about what happened with our spirit animals?  I certainly didn’t expect any of that.” 

“Neither did I, but it was fascinating to see all the other guides.  I think what happened was something very special and an honour.  I seriously doubt anything like that has occurred in living memory.  I’m sure Tom will be ringing you up sometime this week to discuss it.”  John knew Sherlock liked Tom and approved highly of his single-mindedness when it came to researching sentinel and guide lore. 

“I’ll be sure to let you know what he finds out.” 

They went back to watching the episode and relaxing while John slowly melted into a blissful puddle on the sofa.  He moaned in pleasure as Sherlock rubbed a particularly sensitive spot and then laughed out loud. 

Sherlock shot a perturbed glance at him.  “What’s so funny?” 

Chuckling, John sat up and took his feet out of Sherlock’s lap and then switched positions and laid his head there instead.  “What’s funny is that this is our bonding night.  We’re supposed to be fucking like bunnies right now but instead we’re watching Dr Who and you’re rubbing my feet while I slowly fall asleep on you.” 

Petting John’s hair, Sherlock spoke, tone dry and face completely deadpan.  “Oh, dear.  The thrill is gone, then.  Whatever shall we do?” 

John laughed so hard he nearly rolled off the sofa.  Sherlock caught him in time and it was then that John realised his alpha was laughing, too. 

After they’d calmed, John continued.  “I may not be up for it right this moment, but ask me tomorrow morning.  I’ll show you what I can do, then.” 

Sherlock bent and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips.  “We’ll fuck like bunnies?  Be still my heart.  We’ll make a date of it.  Tomorrow morning it is.  Do you want some low-salt popcorn?  There are more episodes to watch.” 

John sighed.  “We’re so domestic these days, it’s nauseating.  Yes, but let me help.  I want the butter flavoured.” 

“No, you need to keep your feet up.  David said so and I agree.  They’re still swollen even after resting for an hour.” 

John grumbled but obeyed.  Sherlock was right.  He needed to start taking it easy from now on so he didn’t stress his body or the babies.  The longer he could keep them in the womb and growing properly, the healthier they would be and the less time they would have to spend in the neonatal unit. 

Since they would be arriving weeks early regardless, the babies would definitely have to spend some time in hospital but he wanted to take them home as soon as possible.  Taking care of himself was the key to having healthy babies.  He would just have to see to it.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very grateful to Mich, who kindly helped me edit this thing. I couldn't have done it without her and she's an amazing person. Thank you, Hon. You're wonderful. :-)
> 
> Also, warning for graphic descriptions of birth.

Early the next morning, Sherlock had spooned up close behind John and woke him slowly in their favourite way by softly kissing and nipping at his neck.  The alpha had then carefully slipped inside John as he slept, gently working himself shallowly in and out of John’s slick hole until the omega woke.  John moaned and arched his back as Sherlock pushed John’s leg forward and up against his swollen belly.  This allowed the alpha to get more depth and also permitted him to more easily tease John to hardness with his hand as he languidly moved deeper inside the omega. 

It felt marvellous and they enjoyed themselves, slow and sweet, for a very long time, but it wasn’t quite enough penetration for John to reach completion.  With a grunt, he reluctantly pulled free of Sherlock with a wet squelch and got to his knees.  He held onto the headboard and presented himself in the archetypal omega position, hips raised and back arched, inviting Sherlock to re-enter him from behind. 

John’s pendulous abdomen was somewhat supported by the pillows beneath him, but he enjoyed the heavy feeling of his belly swaying back and forth, caused by the swift pounding movement of Sherlock driving himself deep, exactly as John loved and craved.  His alpha felt enormous moving inside him because of the weight of the babies pressing down inside him, narrowing his channel.  He was now so tight that it felt almost like the first time they’d come together and he shivered with excitement. 

Sherlock held John’s hips with a bruising grip, grunting as his strokes sped up.  John was so close and begged Sherlock to touch him.  The alpha moved one hand up to the doctor’s nipples and pinched while the other found John’s penis again.  John loved having his nipples manipulated and it always seemed to send lighting straight to his womb.  He arched his back and raised his hips again with a gasp as Sherlock twisted his enlarged nipples and pulled at John’s member in time with his thrusts.  This allowed Sherlock the depth needed for the bulbous head of his penis to push in deep and pound at that special spot that always caused John to plummet over the edge into orgasm.  John cried out as his internal muscles fluttered and pulsated tightly around the alpha’s large member and milked him dry.  Sherlock groaned deeply and bit the side of John’s neck hard as he came, spurting his seed over and over, deep inside his bond mate. 

Gasping for breath, they slowly collapsed onto the bed still joined tightly together.  John felt incredibly sated.  Even his tongue was tingling and sparks of electricity kept running up and down his legs, making the muscles jump with tiny jerks.  As they calmed, Sherlock’s penis finally slipped free with a gush of fluids.  He kissed John’s throat tenderly as he rolled the omega onto his back and inserted his fingers inside.  John was limp as a dishrag and didn’t protest the usual collection and rubbing of their combined fluids over his breasts and belly.  It was one of those earthy, carnal sentinel things and he’d ceased to question it.  He just stretched and enjoyed the sheer hedonism of the act. 

“I was wrong, I willingly admit it.” 

Brows furrowing, John opened his heavy lids with an effort.  “What the bloody hell are you going on about?  You never admit you’re wrong about anything.” 

Sherlock buried his face in John’s hair and the doctor could feel him smile.  “The thrill is not gone at all.  And I think we should fuck like bunnies for the rest of the day.” 

John couldn’t help laughing with delight.  “That’s a marvellous idea and why didn’t I think of that?  Happy bonding day to me!”  Sherlock was hard for him again and John didn’t hesitate to pull him close and deep inside for another round. 

They were able to stay in bed for the rest of the morning, making love many times.  Unfortunately, John did have to eventually get up because he had a late lunch date with Starr, Ben and Bill that afternoon.  Sherlock also had some cases he wanted to follow up on so they reluctantly separated for the day. 

Starr, Ben and Bill stayed for the rest of the week and John spent most of his time with them.  They often visited the flat but he was also able to take them to a variety of his favourite restaurants over the week.  It was nice to get out and he felt fine but made sure not to overdo.  He regretfully said goodbye to his friends at the end of the week and promised to keep in better touch in future. 

The next few weeks were spent slowly decreasing his activity levels, though he did try to continue his walks.  His mum moved in a week earlier than they had planned but it worked out fine.  John really did need her help around the flat more than he thought he would and he hadn’t yet finished the final work on the nursery.  Harry and Clara came around to visit more often, now that Jenny was living there and that was always something he looked forward to.  Sherlock was very busy with cases and John wondered if he was trying to get a lot done before John gave birth.  Once that happened, the alpha would need to give his family all of his attention.  John missed him but understood because a bored Sherlock was a dangerous thing. 

Taking his time putting the finishing touches on the extension to the flat kept John occupied and it also kept his nesting impulses very happy.  He was repainting the woodwork in the nursery when his mobile rang.  Glancing quickly at the mobile’s display he was surprised to see that it was Mycroft.  Juggling a dripping paint brush, he managed to get the phone to his ear.  “Hello, Mycroft? What can I do for you?” 

He reached for a rag and wiped off his brush as his brother-in-law responded.  “John, I’m sorry to inconvenience you, but may I pay you a short visit this afternoon?” 

Quickly, John checked the time.  It was only about half three.  “Sure.  Come by around four and I’ll have some tea and biscuits for us.” 

“Thank you, John.  I do appreciate it.”  The elder Holmes disconnected immediately.  John’s eyebrows rose at the abruptness of Mycroft’s action but he shrugged and went to wash up. 

Mycroft entered the flat exactly at four and took a seat on the sofa.  He had a large envelope with him.  He immediately pulled some photographs from the envelope and glanced quickly at John.  His expression was very serious. 

John stared in confusion as he set out the tea and nodded his head toward the photos.  “So.  What’s this, then?” 

Wordlessly, Mycroft handed them over to John and the doctor sat down beside his brother-in-law.  The first was a rather good quality CCTV shot of a man smoking a cigarette standing on the pavement across from their flat and the time stamp was earlier that week.  John looked it over carefully.  While the hand holding the cigarette partially obscured his face, John could tell that the man was tall, probably an alpha and he was apparently staring up at their flat.  The next photo was a high resolution image of the man’s entire face without the cigarette and John couldn’t help his gasp of recognition.  

Mycroft leaned forward and spoke with an intensity of expression unusual for him.  “Do you know this man, John?”  The doctor’s face tightened and he glanced up at Mycroft, who was staring hard at him.  What did Mycroft know?  John couldn’t make himself speak. 

Mycroft’s tone was cajoling.  “If you have seen him before, you must tell me.  His name is Sebastian Moran.  Sherlock asked me to do research on him when your former team leader mentioned he was trying to get information about you.  He is extremely dangerous to you and Sherlock, John.  What do you know?” 

Sighing, John hung his head as his shoulders slumped.  He’d thought this entire thing was done and over with and he’d hoped Sherlock would never find out about what happened that day.  But John clearly remembered Sebastian Moran as being one of the men who had abducted him at gun point well over a year earlier. 

“I…well, fuck.  I never wanted Sherlock to know about this.”  He looked miserably up at Mycroft, who gestured for him to continue. 

“It started with those abductions last year.  Where people were kidnapped, strapped with explosives and then Sherlock was given a puzzle to solve within a specific time or they’d die.”  John’s mouth twisted bitterly at the recollection.  “Sherlock was so fascinated with that fucker.  He was completely caught up in playing the games without caring about the innocent victims that we had some major rows about it.  It was driving me round the twist and I seriously considered leaving Baker Street.  Then he set up a meeting with that arsehole and sent me away.  He thought I didn’t know what he was up to, but I knew.” 

Mycroft sat back, looking smug.  “You’re referring to James Moriarty, are you not?” 

John nodded reluctantly and his expression became grim.  “Moriarty sent some men to pick me up that night and bring me to him.  Moran was one of them.  After they strapped me into that bomb and tied me up, I listened to that sick fuck go on about the plans he had for Sherlock.  First, he would use me to make Sherlock suffer.  Second, he was going to ruin him publicly and third, have him top himself publicly.”  John narrowed his eyes and dropped his voice to a harsh whisper.  “Well, I just couldn’t allow that now, could I?” 

Looking uneasy, Mycroft nodded carefully.  “We suspected there might be a connection between Moran and Moriarty but I had no real evidence.  We had extensive files on Moriarty but then he disappeared from our radar and his criminal empire collapsed quickly. 

“Apparently, it was his habit to keep his co-conspirators in the dark.  One branch would be completely ignorant of the others.  Only he knew all the details and connections, which is why no one could pick up the threads of his web and continue once he disappeared.  I also believe many of his top people were kept loyal only through blackmail, which is why they all vanished when they realised he was gone for good.  Moran seems to be the exception, however.  I still don’t know what his relationship to Moriarty was. 

“So after you...,” Mycroft coughed delicately, “got rid of Moriarty, Moran disappeared with no trace.  He didn’t resurface until he met with your former commanders later that year.” 

John’s expression hardened.  “So you knew about Moriarty but never said anything?” 

Mycroft raised his chin and spoke somewhat defensively.  “It was a need to know basis.  I had concerns about what Moriarty was doing but was confident that Sherlock was capable of besting the man.  Moriarty had an abnormal fascination with my brother that bordered on obsession but I knew Sherlock would turn down any offer the man might make to join him.  I didn’t know that you would be the one to end things.  I thought I knew who you were at that point but I was very wrong.” 

Deciding that subject did not need rehashing, John returned to the subject of Moran.  “So why do you think Moran is here?  Is it for revenge or to simply try to find out what happened to Moriarty?  After all, I resurfaced after the abduction, basically unharmed and Moriarty vanished.  So unless he’s completely thick, Moran must suspect I was somehow involved in Moriarty’s disappearance. 

“He didn’t know my name that night and wasn’t with Moriarty long enough to learn it.  Moran was sent away with the others soon after they secured me and right before Moriarty began to rant.  Moran must have found out who I was because of my association with Sherlock.  That’s all that makes sense.  I’m wondering where he got the information about my former unit, though.”  He looked suspiciously at Mycroft, who shook his head. 

“I can assure you I had nothing to do with it.  As far as my department knew, Moran had left the country and we had no idea where he was.  He must have got his information elsewhere.  There must be some people who had that information.” 

John thought for a while and agreed.  There were some mercenaries out there who would have given Moran what he wanted, for a price. 

“So what do we do?  Do you know where Moran is now?” 

“We have eyes and ears on him and now that you’ve filled in the blanks, I’ll arrange to have him…taken care of.  In the meantime, I will have more security brought in until he’s brought into custody.” 

Though he admired Mycroft’s ruthlessness, John was hesitant to have the security increased.  But he bowed to common sense and approved it.  Until Moran was caught, he and Sherlock were in danger and he would do anything to protect his alpha. 

“You’ll let me know when you’ve got him, right?” 

Mycroft agreed immediately.  “You’ll be the first to know, I promise you.  Now I must go.  Thank you for the tea.”  John stood to show him to the door. 

“You know, I never wanted Sherlock to know about this.”  John’s expression twisted with unhappiness. 

Surprisingly, Mycroft was sympathetic.  “I suggest that you tell him as soon as possible, however.  You will regret it if you do not.” 

Reluctantly, he agreed and thanked Mycroft for taking care of the situation, but as he watched his brother-in-law walk down the stairs, he silently vowed to put off telling Sherlock as long as he could get away with it. 

He knew it was a bad idea to keep this from his alpha but he had hopes he might not have to tell him.  Moriarty was still a very sore subject between them and John wasn’t sure how Sherlock would react if he knew what John had done.  In the meantime, they had to go back on high alert and he needed to decide just what he was going to tell Sherlock.  Putting it off until it was unavoidable was the only decision he could make, considering everything that was going on. 

Mycroft rang a few days later.  Moran had slipped his net and was nowhere to be found.  John set down his mobile with despairing sigh.  He still didn’t know exactly why Moran was targeting him but he had the feeling he’d find out sooner rather than later.  Sherlock was still working numerous cases simultaneously and wasn’t at the flat much.  He’d either not noticed or simply didn’t care that Mycroft’s security had increased recently.  John wished he wasn’t such a coward and he knew that the longer he put off talking to Sherlock, the worse it would be.  He resolved himself to speak to his alpha sometime soon. 

John had an appointment with Dr Fulton the day he officially entered his third trimester. Sherlock was busy and hadn’t been able to accompany him, so one of Mycroft’s people had driven him and accompanied him as far as the waiting room.  The obstetrician was very pleased as he read over John’s lab tests before handing him the paperwork.   

“You’re doing incredibly well, John.  You’re now at 24 weeks, the babies are growing right on schedule and look wonderful.  As you can see, your blood pressure is somewhat higher than before but still well within normal range.  Your kidney and liver functions are only slightly elevated.  I’m frankly amazed and impressed.  Just keep doing whatever it is you’re doing and we can maybe get you past 33 weeks.” 

John was also happy with the results of the tests.  There was something he’d been thinking about for a while and wanted to bring up to Dr Fulton.  “I know we’ve always assumed the babies would be taken by C- section… but is it possible to have them naturally?  Without the surgery?” 

Dr Fulton considered for a moment.  “Well, it’s very rare for that to occur, especially in male omegas, but I don’t see why not considering how well you’re doing.  We’ll have to wait and see how things progress, but if that’s what you want, we can work toward that.  Some conditions will have to be met first, however.  You’ll have to make it past 33 weeks, the babies will have to be in the proper position and your lab tests have to be good with no major health issues.  As long as you continue to feel well and you meet those conditions, I’ll consider inducing labour.” 

John was grinning like a fool at the thought of having them naturally.  He would recover much faster from a normal birth and be able to care of the babies sooner.  Also, he wanted to try to breast feed them at first, at least as much as he was able to do.  He wouldn’t be able to produce enough for all of them and they’d have to supplement, but feeding each one even some of his milk would pass along immunities and give them a better start in life.  His mammary glands and nipples had been enlarging and though they weren’t anywhere near as large as a female omega’s might be, Dr Fulton had assured him they’d produce plenty of milk and had supported his desire to breast feed. 

As the days flew by, the babies became more active. Their moments developed a pattern in that all three seemed to be awake in the afternoon, slept in the evening and would then wake fully just when John wanted to get to sleep for the night.  They also seemed to be shoving each other back and forth.  John just hoped they weren’t trying to eat each other in the womb the way sharks did but he wouldn’t put it past them.  There was no doubt these were Sherlock’s babies; all seemed to have very sharp elbows and knees. 

John also swore they seemed to want to punch their way out, rather than be born the more usual way.  When he whinged about it to Peggy, she told him that it was very normal and explained she was pretty sure her internal organs had been punching bags for her babies so it was only fair that it happened to him, too.  

John laughed and asked, “Why am I talking to you again?” 

“Because I’m totally reassuring and supportive?”  John could hear the smile in her voice.  

Despite the interrupted sleep, the constant trips to the toilet, the back pain and the swollen ankles, John loved being pregnant.  He felt he must be abnormal or something but he adored the times when he could commune with them using his empathy.  He never instigated it himself any longer but responded whenever the babies did.  Usually it happened whenever all of them were resting but not sleeping and he could concentrate just on them.  As they grew larger, the feelings also grew stronger so that Sherlock could feel their empathy even when he wasn’t in physical contact with John. 

Things calmed after a while as the babies continued to grow and had less room to move.  It was astounding how large he got and as he approached 30 weeks, he started to actually see and not just feel how sharp the elbows and knees were.  It was bizarre to see them sliding around just under his skin and was entranced at first.  Later it became somewhat annoying but Sherlock was endlessly fascinated by the movement and would watch for hours if John allowed it. 

After 30 weeks, his visits to Dr Fulton became weekly and everything continued to progress normally.  He felt strong, got around just fine and his tests were all excellent.  Sleeping for more than a few hours at a time was getting more difficult, but he was a doctor and was used to sleep deprivation for long periods of time. 

He was excited at the thought that he might be able to deliver the babies naturally and was doing everything he could to assure that it happened.  Despite it all, Dr Fulton had scheduled him to go into hospital when he reached the 33rd week because it would be safer and the babies could be monitored around the clock.  John had reluctantly agreed and laughed when he saw that his mum had packed his bag already.  

His only worry continued to be the fact that Moran was still not in custody after all these weeks.  He’d gone completely underground or possibly left the country.  John could only hope that the latter was true but knew that was unlikely.   As he sat contemplating this, Sherlock came up the stairs with the post and glanced at him briefly.  John saw his alpha’s brows knit together in a frown.  “What are you feeling guilty about now, John?” 

“What do you mean?  I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”  John knew he was a crap liar but he hoped his alpha would leave it alone. 

Sherlock arched a sceptical eyebrow at him, tossed the post in his lap and without another word turned his back and went into the kitchen.  Anger and frustration were radiating off the man but John stayed mute.   He wasn’t yet ready for the confrontation that he knew was coming. 

Feeling worse than before, John knew he was being a total idiot. He needed to talk to Sherlock but was unsure how to bring the subject up properly. By remaining silent, he was only making everything worse. 

Sighing in despair at his continued cowardice, he flipped through the post, separating out the bills and correspondence.  One letter stood out from the others in that there was no return address. Since it was for him, John tore it open and a simple note card slipped out.  He flipped it open and read:   _‘I know now it was you. I’m going to destroy your bond mate and then I’ll come for you.’_ It was signed SM. 

John couldn’t help the quick gasp of surprise and his heart lurched in genuine fear. That bastard Moran was threatening to kill them!  If he was anything like Moriarty, the man was insane. From a military standpoint, what approach would he try first? He’d been a sniper but, from what John had learnt from Mycroft, it seemed that Moran’s specialty had been jungle or desert warfare with little or no experience in urban areas. Though John was certain the man could adapt to any environment.  His training allowed him to do the same if the situations were reversed and he had worked for Moriarty, after all. 

What the bloody hell was Moran’s connection to that mad bastard aside from being a hired gun?  Had they been closer? Possibly bond mates? John had seen no indication of it when he’d been held captive, but then, the thought of that total nutter Jim being able to bond with anyone was nearly inconceivable.  The man had been completely mad and John had done the world a favour when he’d broken his neck. 

The doctor was so deep in thought that he jumped when the note was snatched from his hand and Sherlock was nearly snarling over him, reacting as a sentinel would do to an imminent threat to his guide. He must have heard John’s gasp and increased heart rate and come to defend his omega. Yet he was also angry with John.  

“Clearly this is from Sebastian Moran.  You’ve been keeping something from me since Mycroft came to visit the other week and right after, our security was doubled. I’ve been waiting for you to talk to me about it but so far you’ve said nothing. What do you know about this, John?” 

John swallowed audibly at his alpha’s demand.  The confrontation had arrived, despite the fact he was not prepared for it.  He’d just have to face it and stop being a coward. Bracing himself, he looked down at the ring on his finger and began to speak.  

“I…as you already know, Mycroft came here the other day.  He had some CCTV snaps of a man who had been loitering outside.  Mycroft identified him as Sebastian Moran and wanted to know if I knew him."  John continued to stare at the ring and began to twist it. 

"Well, did you recognise him?"  Sherlock demanded impatiently and crossed his arms across his chest. 

"Yes, I've seen him before."  John's gaze moved up to his alpha’s face.  "He was one of a group of men who abducted me at gunpoint.” 

Sherlock's arms dropped to his sides and he went pale.  “What? When was this and why didn’t you tell me about it?” 

John sighed and looked down again. His tone was bitter. “We were barely speaking then. It happened the night you arranged to meet that mad bomber at the pool last year.” 

The alpha’s lips tightened and his brows drew together in anger. "You weren't meant to know about that.  How did you find out?"  

"I'm not an idiot, Sherlock. Even I know how to access your website and read.  I saw your offer to meet him; to exchange information. I was so upset with you that I allowed you to send me away. You thought I was going to Sarah’s but I was planning on following you to back you up. Instead I was picked up and taken to a basement in an old warehouse.” 

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed in confusion.   “Who…why were you taken? How is it I didn’t see this?” 

John’s mouth twisted in resentment and he looked up at Sherlock.  “It was your ‘fan’ who arranged my kidnapping. Moriarty. He was also your mad bomber, in case you didn’t already know that. I was kidnapped because he wanted to use me against you.  And I suspect you didn’t deduce it because you were rather distracted at the time, wondering where he was when he didn’t show up at the pool. Then you spent a few weeks looking for him. My injuries were healed by the time you actually noticed I was still here.” 

Sherlock suddenly sat down in his chair as if he were a puppet with its strings cut. His expression was bleak and his voice deeper than usual.  “Tell me.” 

And so John told him.  He described his anger and fear as he was surrounded by gunmen, shoved roughly into a vehicle where he was then bound and his head covered with a cloth bag.  He explained to Sherlock how he’d been taken to an old warehouse where Molly’s ‘boyfriend’ removed John’s blindfold and introduced himself as James Moriarty.  John caught the gasp of surprise that Sherlock tried to hide at that revelation.  The alpha had not known that Moriarty had been so close to them. 

Reluctantly, John allowed himself to remember, telling Sherlock how Jim had had him wrapped in Semtex and tied to a chair. The deranged bastard had then sent his lackeys away to prepare for the meeting at the pool. After they’d gone, he’d begun to taunt John, rant at him and described exactly how he planned to ‘play’ with Sherlock.  

John saw the alpha grimly nod in understanding.  “So Moriarty underestimated you and paid with his life.” 

The doctor responded without hesitation.  “Yes.  He saw me as your ‘pet’. He threatened us both and ultimately planned to kill you once he’d got what he wanted from you.”  John recalled with great clarity and ruthless satisfaction the absolute shock and astonishment on Moriarty’s face when John had got loose from his bonds.  The idiot had tried to fight but it had been over in seconds.  
  
Mouth tight with anger, Sherlock objected. “But he wasn’t planning to kill me at the pool.  You shouldn’t have interfered! I would have dealt with him.”  
  
Incredulous, John stared at Sherlock as the man got up and began to pace back and forth.  “Not interfered?  Sherlock, I wasn’t meant to survive that meeting at the pool. If I’d not killed that nutter, I’d be dead right now.”  
  
”You don’t know that for sure. You made a unilateral decision that affected the both of ….” John didn’t let him finish. Laughing disdainfully, he shook his head in disbelief.   
  
“Didn’t you hear what I just said? If I hadn’t broken that bastard’s neck, I’d be dead.  He flat out told me I was going to die that night and he gloated that you’d be forced to watch! He said he had planted snipers everywhere at the pool to be certain of it!  

“I made the best decision for us both because you’d also be dead right now if I hadn’t done. You’re just angry because he never showed up to continue your games!” John realised he shouldn’t have said those words as soon as they left his lips, but he was furious at Sherlock’s refusal to listen. 

John could tell Sherlock was also livid but hiding it well. The detective looked down his nose at the doctor and sniffed. His resemblance to Mycroft almost made John laugh but he managed to restrain himself.  “Do you seriously think I couldn’t have bested him?  And why didn’t you tell me any of this before now?”  
  
Pinching the bridge of his nose, John felt his anger bleed away and he sighed in exhaustion.  “Because I wanted an end to it all.  He was dead, there was nothing anyone could do and I did not want to think about it any longer. You had been so caught up in those fucking puzzles left by that bastard….  It’s not a matter of you not being able to best him, Sherlock.  It’s….”  John stopped and looked away as his shoulders slumped.

“What were you going to say?” Sherlock’s tone was nearly a sneer as he pointed an accusing finger at John.  “That you hated who and what I was?  I didn’t think it was news to you that I didn’t care about those people and I never did. That’s how I am and you knew that from the beginning. I may have revised my opinion on the existence of heroes, John, but I’m still not one and you have always known it!” 

John felt himself becoming angry again and took a carefully controlled breath before answering.  “I don’t know that at all! Despite what you say, it’s not true that you don’t care. I could tell that about you from the first moment I met you. The problem is that you care  _too much_ , which is why you used to try to cut that part of yourself off because you thought it was detrimental to your work. I know it’s painful for you to try to deal with ‘sentiment’ but you do better than you realise.  

“What  _was_  a surprise to me was how deeply and how quickly you were drawn into Moriarty’s games. And I never hated you! What I hated was your behaviour.   I despised watching you becoming more and more like him as you solved each puzzle and how you waited with absolute glee for the next one, even knowing that people were dying. I was sure I was going to lose you to him if the situation went on much longer.” John stood and stared defiantly into Sherlock’s eyes. “So I finished things and deliberately let you wonder what happened.” John knew his words were provocative, but he was fuming and didn’t care.  
  
Sherlock’s complexion paled even further and then his cheeks flushed in anger as he shut down his connection to John.  The doctor couldn’t help but wince as pain vibrated through his entire body and he had to sit down again.  He knew Sherlock didn’t mean it as punishment but the alpha was experiencing strong emotional conflicts that he didn’t really know how to deal with. 

“You had no right to make that call. I knew what I was doing and I had everything under control.  I would have protected you!”  Sherlock practically hissed at the doctor, who recognised the pure alpha insulted indignation and deep hurt over the insinuation that Sherlock couldn’t shield his omega. Even though they’d not been together then, Sherlock was now reacting as an alpha with a threatened omega and wasn’t thinking clearly. 

Heaving a sigh of pure frustration, John felt like tearing his hair out.  He clearly wasn’t getting through and wouldn’t until his alpha calmed down. Alpha hormones were a bitch.  “Sherlock, you are the finest and most amazing man I have ever known and you are everything to me.  Hero only describes a small part of you and I’m sorry you can’t seem to acknowledge that. You’re being completely irrational about this.”

Rearing back as if he had been struck, Sherlock stared in outraged dismay at John, who just covered his eyes at realising the insult he’d just delivered; despite the fact it was the truth. 

“You were jealous.”   
  
He certainly had been and John reluctantly admitted it.  “Yes, I was jealous.  Your attention was all on him and his games and your behaviour was….” John searched for a way to properly describe it. “Insensitive and callous, to say the least.  You weren’t behaving like the man I admired and had fallen in love with.  I wasn’t sure I even wanted to know you at that point.  In fact, if you want to know the complete truth, I was seriously considering leaving London and taking the job offer from Starr and Ben.” 

The horrible look of intense hurt flashed across Sherlock’s face again and was gone in an instant, to be replaced by his haughty expression of disdain. “I would have thought you had enough faith in me to know that I would never have had anything to do with that man. It seems I was wrong.” 

Before John could respond, Sherlock snatched up his coat and left the flat. John put his head in his hands as he heard the front door slam shut with a finality he didn’t like.  He couldn’t feel Sherlock but knew that the alpha would return once he’d sorted out his emotions.  There were multiple alpha instincts involved with this and they truly were making Sherlock irrational and totally unreasonable. It might take some time but John was confident that Sherlock would be back. 

His mum was staying with Harry and Clara that evening and John was pitifully grateful that he didn’t have to explain their domestic to her. He was emotionally exhausted and bed sounded like an excellent idea. Hopefully Sherlock would contact him in the next day or so once he’d calmed and they could talk rationally.  

Taking out his mobile, he sent a text to Mycroft’s people in the extremely remote possibility they hadn’t heard the entire row.  John knew the whole confrontation could have gone better. His temper was to blame for most of the things he’d said but on the other hand, he was relieved it was finally out in the open and he didn’t have to conceal anything from Sherlock any longer.  He hoped it wouldn’t take his alpha long to sort things out, though.  It was lonely in the flat and being cut off emotionally hurt and made him feel freezing cold. 

He stood with a groan. His back was aching from the way he’d been sitting on the sofa and he stretched.  One of the babies gave him a sharp kick and he could feel him or her pushing against his skin. Their movements never failed to raise his spirits and he stood with his hands on his belly, feeling them squirming about and smiling until the motions faded away as he or she fell asleep.  The babies had a way of making him feel better just by thinking about them and he headed off to get ready for bed with a lighter heart. 

He’d just finished cleaning his teeth when his mobile rang.  Quickly he snatched it up and answered.  It was Lestrade and the DI sounded bone-weary. 

“Hey, John.  Sorry to ring you so late, but His Highness is here and I didn’t want you to worry.   He says it’s an alpha thing and you just wouldn’t understand, whatever the bloody hell that means.  I expect he’ll be staying a few days and then come crawling home when he realises I’m not going to wash his pants for him.”  

Before John could say anything, there was some fumbling on the other end of the phone and then Lestrade was back. “Christ! Stop it!  He’s such a tit. Don’t know how you put up with him.  But he’s okay and I’ll keep an eye on him for you.”  
  
”Thanks, Greg. I owe you for this.” Something inside John relaxed in grateful relief to know Sherlock was safe at Lestrade’s flat and not riddled with Moran’s bullets in a ditch somewhere.  

Ringing off, John felt shattered. However, he knew that sleep was going to be beyond him at the moment so he wandered into the nursery and sat in a rocking recliner that he’d found on one of his shopping trips. Putting his feet up helped with the swelling in his ankles and he stretched out so most of his weight was on his back and shoulders instead of his hips.  It was surprisingly comfortable, so he surrounded himself with some stuffed animals to support his belly and moved slightly to one side so he could relax somewhat.  

As he reclined in the chair, thinking about his babies, he wondered what kind of people they would eventually become. What would they call them? He and Sherlock still hadn’t discussed names much.  When would they start to walk and talk?  If they were anything like Sherlock, they’d probably be speaking complete sentences the moment they were born or some such insane thing.  Would they be omegas, betas or alphas?  Boys or girls?  The thoughts swirled in his head, giving him no rest. Finally he decided that his only real wish at the moment was that they would arrive safely and be healthy.  

After a few hours of restlessly shifting in the chair, John fell into a shallow doze where he knew he wasn’t awake but wasn’t really asleep, either.  His dreams were chaotic and full of sadness and regret.  In them Sherlock and their children looked at him in disappointment and then turned away, intensifying his feelings of failure.  

Waking with a gasp, he lay there sorting out the dream for a while and rubbing at his belly where it seemed the babies had also woken and were starting to move about some.  They had very little room to shift about now and the pressure on his organs and bones made it difficult for him to sleep for more than a few hours anyway. Lying on his back made it hard to breathe and lying on his side put pressure on one or more of the babies, so he had to constantly wake to shift position. 

Peggy had warned him about all that and suggested that he get body pillows to help support his abdomen at this point.  He’d taken her advice and had been getting more rest recently. But he knew he wasn’t getting any more sleep tonight.  John finally trudged back to his bed to try to rest if he couldn’t sleep.  He missed Sherlock’s presence and hadn’t realised just how much having his alpha with him soothed both him and the babies.  There was no help for it at the moment, so he sighed and tried to settle down on the cool sheets. 

Around half six in the morning he reached for his mobile and sent a text to Sherlock that read,  _‘I should have told you.’_   He got an almost immediate response, which meant that Sherlock hadn’t been sleeping either.   _‘Yes, you should have done.’_  

So, all was not forgiven yet but things would be fine, eventually.  Sherlock would cut off his arm before admitting that he required time to process his emotions but John was willing to give him as much as he needed.  He sent another text before getting up for the day.  _‘I’m sorry.’_   There was no response to that but he hadn’t honestly expected one. 

His mum returned later in the day and sensed something was wrong but thankfully didn’t try to make him talk about it.  The day wore on slowly and John did his best to stay occupied with his writing and returning emails.  He received a couple of texts from Greg indicating that he and Sherlock were busy at New Scotland Yard with a new case and all was well. 

The disk with the photographs from the bonding ceremony had arrived the day after Sherlock left, but John hadn’t looked at them yet. They were meant to go through them and choose the best ones to purchase, so he put the disk in his laptop and began to flip through them all. There seemed to be hundreds and he knew it was going to be difficult to choose. 

He couldn’t help smiling as he clicked through them, though. It had been an amazing day and most of the images were exceptionally good.  The photographer was very talented. The usual ones of the family and friends all staged and lined up together before the ceremony were in the first folder. Then there were the ones from the actual bonding ceremony. He’d half hoped the spirit animals would show up, but that was too much to hope for, apparently. There was no sign of them and John grinned at the shocked faces of the guests looking at nothing. 

But he sobered when he found the ones of himself and Sherlock saying their vows.  His breath caught at the expression on Sherlock’s face as John slipped the ring onto his alpha’s finger. It was as if his bond mate was overwhelmed, awed and delighted all at once.  It thrilled John and made his chest ache at the same time. He looked down at his own hand and recalled that moment when Sherlock had put the ring on his finger. His happiness had been indescribable and it had been a nearly transcendent moment for him. Remembering what he’d felt, John was confident they’d soon sort things out. 

Images from the reception and bonding breakfast were in the third folder.  There were some very funny, candid ones and others like Lestrade toasting their bonding with a huge bottle of Guinness while everyone else had dainty champagne flutes.  John found himself laughing outright at the snap of himself flopped out on the sofa with his shoes off, eyes closed and feet on the coffee table. Overall, the photos were a wonderful reminder of a very happy day and it lightened John’s spirits to look at them.  

The flat was quiet that evening, though his mum did come over to watch some telly before John headed off to bed. It was nice to have her there and the flat didn’t seem so empty.  Jenny still didn’t ask what had happened between him and Sherlock, even though he knew she was bursting with curiosity. One of the things he admired most about his mum was her strong sense of boundaries and privacy about her children. Once they’d become adults, she rarely tried to interfere or question his or Harry’s decisions and only commented when asked. He knew it was an extremely rare trait in a parent and he treasured it now.  John made a note to himself to make sure he told her how much he appreciated her restraint once Sherlock came home. 

Each morning before he got up for the day, John sent a text that read,  _‘I’m sorry. Come home.’_  On the second day he received a reply that made him smile with hope.   _‘Apology accepted.’_   There was no indication of when Sherlock would come home but he hoped it would be soon. 

That night, as John stared blankly at the telly, the babies started to get restless. He’d been having Braxton Hicks contractions for a few days, which had been an odd experience but this was very different.  It was such a strange sensation as they seemed to slither about inside him. He’d got into the habit of counting their movements and there seemed to be more than usual, as if they were agitated.  It wouldn’t surprise him if they were and he took the initiative this time to project soothing emotions with his empathy as he gently rubbed his belly. 

What he got back was odd in that he picked up a sense of worry or concern from them.  Were they reacting to the situation with Sherlock? Picking up on John’s emotions? It seemed very likely. Of course they couldn’t know that his and Sherlock’s separation was only temporary but, using his empathy, he did his best to reassure them and they finally quietened down. 

It was very weird and he hoped it wouldn’t happen again. It suggested that the babies had a sense of awareness outside the womb that wasn’t normal and possibly unhealthy.  The translated warning he’d read from the old book began to make more sense but he tried not to worry. His spirit animal had reassured him the babies were fine but he didn’t want to take any more chances and vowed not to initiate empathic contact in future. 

That night as he lay awake in bed, John finally felt Sherlock’s presence slowly creep into his mind again, as if the alpha could no longer keep himself apart from the omega.  His relief was intense and, though he didn’t think Sherlock could feel it, John sent out his gratitude and love in response.  

His sleep was much deeper and more restful that night and when he woke, it was to find Sherlock curled up in bed behind him with one arm wrapped possessively around John’s belly. The detective must have just got home because he was still in his clothes and he smelt of the cool night air.  

John’s heart filled with joy at the presence of his alpha.  Checking the time, he saw that it was still very early. Slowly and with some effort, John shifted onto his side facing Sherlock, gently brushed the thick hair away from the detective’s face and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”  

The silvery grey-green eyes slid open and stared at him.  Sherlock reached for John’s left hand and rubbed the bonding ring with his thumb. The detective’s deep voice made John shiver in reaction to the much-loved sound. “You were right, John. I behaved abominably during those weeks last year and owe you an apology. Also, you acted properly when you disposed of Moriarty and I shouldn’t have implied otherwise. I failed to protect you and that knowledge caused me to behave… poorly the other day. I see that now. However, I think we can both agree that you should have told me what happened. It would have saved us both considerable grief.”

John moved to rest his forehead against Sherlock’s.  “Yes, I should have done. I was a coward and I knew it would come back and bite me in the arse eventually.”  
  
Sherlock huffed and kissed the tip of John’s nose. “Agreed.  Let’s try to avoid such situations in future.  So, do you have the unsolved disappearance of any other criminal masterminds on your conscience?” 

John couldn’t help the snort of laughter.  “Moriarty was the last one, honestly. Let’s hope there won’t be any more. Or if there are, I’ll let you handle them.”  He ran his fingers through Sherlock’s dark hair, breathed in his alpha’s scent and felt himself relax profoundly.  “I’m truly sorry, luv.  I never meant to hurt you and would take back the things I said.”

Shaking his head, Sherlock disagreed.  “No, you were more correct than not about what was happening last year. I was blinded by the excitement of the case and failed to see how it was affecting everyone around me, especially you. I behaved inexcusably then and was also wrong to storm out of here the other day. Moran is a threat that we have to face together.  We need to watch each other’s backs if we’re going to get through this. 

“Now you need to rest.  You’ll be going into hospital on Monday and I want to hold you while it’s still possible. Our children will be arriving so soon. It’s hard to believe how our lives will change in a few days.”   

John hummed in agreement as he closed his eyes and drifted back off to sleep. Sherlock’s arm went around him again and the alpha tenderly kissed his forehead.  John’s dreams were peaceful and full of the sounds of laughter.  The aches and pains he’d been experiencing for the past few days seemed to evaporate.  John woke many hours later feeling refreshed for the first time in what seemed like weeks.  Sherlock was long gone but there was a text on John’s mobile.   _‘I’ve got some leads to follow up on the case. Circumstances are fascinating and will explain when I get home tonight.’_  

Though John was disappointed that he wouldn’t get the chance to spend the day with Sherlock, he resigned himself to being able to have the evening with him.  There were things to do but John felt agitated and couldn’t focus on anything for more than a few minutes at a time. His stomach was queasy and he’d not been able to eat anything solid for the last day or so.  When he’d tried to force himself, the food had been rejected immediately so he hadn’t tried again. Thankfully, he really wasn’t feeling hungry since the aches and pains had returned with a vengeance, especially the sore back. The babies were also restless and seemed to kick and punch more often than usual. He rang David to ask about it but was reassured. 

“This is perfectly normal, John. I suspect they’re beginning to move into position for birth. You’re almost at 33 weeks and I think your body is getting itself ready.  The time you should be worried is if they get quiet and stop moving.  If that happens I want you to ring immediately and call an ambulance to get you to hospital.  You’re scheduled to be admitted in two days. Keep a list of the number of kicks and movements. I’ll want to see it when you arrive.  Don’t hesitate to contact me if you have any other questions. Be patient, rest while you can and save your strength. Only another few days and you’ll be the parent of three tiny babies, John.” 

John rang off gratefully. He trusted Dr Fulton to let him know if he needed to be concerned. Everything would be over soon and he’d finally be able to hold his children in his arms.  Finally calm, John sat down with his list of names but without Sherlock present he couldn’t really make any final decisions. 

Together they’d written down a fair number of names that could be used for both girls and boys.  They’d definitely be using Fabienne or Fabien for one of the children.  He might have to wait until he actually saw his babies before he’d be able to decide, though.  The names that they had both liked also had special meanings.  John had liked the name Kellen because it reminded him of the meaning of Sherlock’s name.  Kellen was of Irish derivation and meant ‘descendant of the bright headed one’ while Sherlock meant ‘bright hair’ in Old English.  Arron meant ‘exalted’, Emlyn meant ‘to strive’ and Tate meant ‘cheerful’.  There were many more but John had narrowed it down to those few and would consult more with Sherlock when the detective returned home that evening. 

As he scanned the names they were considering, he rubbed at his belly, feeling the movements of the babies.  They had also calmed down somewhat during the afternoon but as the evening approached, they seemed to get more agitated again. John got up and walked around the flat since the movement seemed to lull them for a time and he was able to start dinner.  The small amount of exercise loosened his muscles and some of his back pain receded. 

His mum had gone out with Mrs Hudson and Mrs Turner for the evening. The three of them were becoming fast friends and enjoyed playing bingo at a local hall a few times a week after going to dinner together.  John was happy that his mum was making friends and enjoying living in London. He had been concerned that she’d miss her home and would be miserable. But he should have known better. Jenny Watson was a ray of sunshine wherever she went and everyone liked her.  Despite his earlier worries about parental intrusiveness, John was thrilled that his mum was there for him. 

It was early evening and John had thought Sherlock would be home by dinner time.  He picked up his mobile to see if he’d missed a text but there was nothing. It must have been quite a lead if it kept Sherlock busy for so long.  He still couldn’t deal with food but wrapped up a plate for Sherlock to microwave later. 

As John sat on the sofa and picked up the remote to turn on the telly, he felt a jolt go through him as if he’d been electrocuted.  Pain flared through his limbs and chest as he rocked to one side and fell against the arm of the sofa, holding his belly with both arms. His awareness of his bond mate faded to almost nothing.   _Sherlock!_ Something had happened to him!

  
The pain in his body receded as John lurched to his feet, stumbled across the room and grabbed his mobile. He sent off a text to Sherlock, not even reading what he wrote before hitting send.   As he waited in agony for a response, his mobile rang. It was Mycroft and his heart sank to his feet.   
  
 “Mycroft?”  John hated how his voice trembled and cracked as he answered the call.  

“John? Are you sitting down?  There’s been an explosion.  Lestrade and his team were investigating a body in an old warehouse when something detonated inside. Sherlock was with them. My people are fairly certain it was a bomb but we’re not certain what kind at this time.  I’m in contact with the city’s search and rescue and they’re sending in equipment and rescuers to look for survivors right now.” 

John’s knees failed him and he sat down hard on a nearby chair, trying not to hyperventilate.  “I…I can still feel him, Mycroft. He’s alive. I think he’s hurt, but he’s alive.” 

There was a huge intake of breath and a relieved sigh from the other end of the line. Then Mycroft then spoke briskly.  “Thank you, John.  Stay put for now and I’ll keep you informed. As soon as we get them out, I’ll send a car for you to bring you to St Thomas’.  Try to stay calm, John. Think of your children. And… if anything changes, please let me know immediately.” 

Something horrible occurred to John and his blood froze in his veins. “Mycroft!  Before you go, I think this might be Moran’s work.”  
  
The voice from the phone sounded grim. “I know, John.  I suspect it as well. It’s messier than I expected, but I believe you’re correct.” 

The phone went dead and John just sat and stared at it for a time, then closed his eyes and tried to feel along the connection he had with Sherlock.  It was still there and somewhat stronger than before. He put his head down on the table and shook.  This couldn’t be real.  How had this happened?  Moran  _must_  have done this.  That explanation was the only one that made sense.  

He returned to the sofa and turned on the telly. There was a special news report being broadcast. On the screen was live shot of a smoking warehouse being filmed from a helicopter, surrounded by police and fire brigade vehicles with their blue lights strobing brightly.  Controlled chaos reigned at the scene but the response had been miraculously swift.  As he watched, the camera focused in on a section of the building that was beginning to topple over into the street, causing people to scatter.  

John’s heart sank when he saw there were fires started by the explosion but the fire brigade was on them, thankfully.  Artificial arc lights were being set up to illuminate the scene so the rescuers could get started moving debris and continue fighting the fires.  

The camera view shifted to a shot of a shocked looking newscaster in a news room reading from a prepared statement while the video of the warehouse ran in the background.  “This is a live report. There has been an explosion in a warehouse at Forest Hill Industrial Estate. It is very close to The Leather Exchange restaurant, which also appears to have suffered some damage, mostly broken windows. At this time we do not know exactly what has happened or if anyone has been injured. Please stay tuned for further updates as we continue to discover the facts of this case.”  
  
The camera pulled back again to show the warehouse and, without thinking, John picked up his mobile and dialled Sherlock.  It rang and rang and, just before it went to voice mail, it was answered.  “John?”  
  
It was Sherlock’s voice, though it was very faint and he sounded breathless. John’s vision went white for a moment as he nearly collapsed with relief. “Sherlock! Where are you? Are you all right? Please luv, talk to me!” John waited with bated breath as he heard coughing on the other end of the phone.   
  
The detective’s voice was stronger.  “I can barely hear you, John. My ears have been affected by the blast.  We’re trapped in the south west corner of the building.  Tell the rescuers to start there after they’ve put the fires out.” John heard Sherlock cough.  It sounded wet and John’s hands began to shake.  But then the detective was back.   “There’s smoke down here so let the fire brigade know.” 

“Are you all right, luv?  I know you’re hurt.” John’s voice quivered uncontrollably. 

There was the horrible coughing again. John wanted to scream but kept himself calm by sheer force of will as Sherlock began to speak again.  “I’ve hit my head and I think I’ve got some broken bones. I can’t move much because of that. The blast was strong enough to render us all unconscious until now. It was a bomb, John.  I could smell the Semtex as we approached the body and I knew then that it was a trap, but we were too far from the exit. The room in the south west corner had the strongest walls and we headed for that before the bomb could detonate.  

“Everything is dark down here and I couldn’t see much when I used the light from the phone’s display since the ceiling has collapsed. There’s nothing but large slabs of broken cement surrounding me, but I can hear Lestrade and his people. They’re on the other side of the room closer to the foundation.  They seem to be fine, though I think there may be some slight injuries from the way Anderson keeps whinging.”  
  
John’s laugh sounded more like a sob but he tried to keep his voice as business-like as possible. “Understood.  Let me call Mycroft.  He’s in contact with the rescue crews from the city. Then I’ll ring you right back. Please hold on, Sherlock. I need you to be there when I call back, okay?”  
  
There was a painful huff of amusement.  “I don’t plan to go anywhere for a while, my love. Now, ring Mycroft and get back to me as soon as you can.”  The phone disconnected and it took John a few moments to steady his hands and find the correct number to ring.  

Mycroft picked up immediately and from what he could tell, the elder Holmes was already at the warehouse.  John could hear shouts and the growl of diesel engines in the background. 

“He’s at the south west corner of the building, Mycroft. He says Lestrade and his people are closer to the corner of the building. The blast knocked everyone out but they seem to be mostly okay.  I’m guessing he’s nearer to the doorway and didn’t make it fully into the room.  He says there’s smoke and I think he’s got broken ribs. I’m worried there might be a punctured lung.”  John’s voice quavered for a moment but then steadied.  “Please work fast, Mycroft. I’m going to ring him back now and stay on the line with him until you reach him.  Has anyone heard from the others, yet?” 

“I’ll have the rescuers concentrate on that corner. And yes, some of the others are just now calling out on their mobiles.  They have confirmed what you’ve just told me. Now ring my brother back and keep him conscious. We’ll be there just as soon as humanly possible.” 

His hands were steady this time when he dialled Sherlock’s number.  Sherlock answered after a few tense moments.  “Mycroft is outside and he’s directing the rescue to your location. You can probably hear them now. But it’s going to take some time, luv. Probably a couple of hours. How are you holding up?”

“I’m here, John.” Sherlock’s voice sounded a bit weaker and more breathless than before and John’s heart froze in fear.  If Sherlock developed traumatic pneumothorax from a broken rib, his lung could collapse.  “I’m not going anywhere. The smoke has gone so they must have put the fires out.  It’s just a matter of time before they get to me and so we must be patient. Now tell me what you’ve been doing all day.”

John took a deep breath.  “You’d be proud of me, luv. I’ve narrowed down the list of possible names to a handful.  I figured I’d let you choose from my list.”

Sherlock gave a pained laugh. “Now how is that fair?  I get to choose from  _your_  list? What about mine?”  
  
”You actually have your own list? If so, this is the first I’ve heard of it.”  John couldn’t keep a smile from his face or the incredulity from his voice.

“Well, no, I don’t actually have one as of yet. But tell me yours.” 

They talked about the possible names for their babies and many other things they’d not taken the time to discuss before. Like where their children would go to school and what they might want to be when they grew up.  John found himself relaxing and laughing as they talked and he felt closer to his alpha than he’d done for a long time, despite the physical distance between them. Sherlock’s cough didn’t seem to be getting any worse, thankfully. All John wanted was to crawl through the line to Sherlock and just hold him close. 

Finally, he heard shifting and grinding on Sherlock’s end and some distant shouting.  Sherlock’s voice was hoarse and he could only whisper.  “They’re here, my love.  They need me to help them so I must get off the phone. I will see you soon.”  
  
John was almost faint with relief. “Mycroft is sending a car for me and I’ll meet you at the hospital, luv.” Reluctantly he disconnected the phone and dialled Mycroft, noticing the battery of his mobile was almost exhausted. He’d just spent over two hours on the phone with Sherlock. 

Once more, his brother-in-law answered right away.  “John, they’ve found him and they’re bringing him out. He’s awake and alert.”  John closed his eyes briefly and breathed a sigh of pure relief and gratitude to whatever looked out for alpha sentinel consulting detectives.  John then glanced at the television screen. He’d left the telly on but muted the sound and he could see live footage of a very dusty Sherlock being brought up strapped to a stretcher and the rescuers cheering behind the excited reporter.  There was some blood visible on Sherlock’s forehead but John could see no other obvious injuries.

“Thank god!  How are the others? Have they got them out yet?”  John was worried about Greg and hoped he was all right. 

“They were brought out just a few moments ago. I’m sending a car to you now, John.  I must go but I’ll meet you at the hospital.” 

“Thank you, Mycroft. I’ll see you soon.”  John rested his head in his hands for a few moments and tried to pull himself together.  The babies started to writhe and he looked down to see his abdomen practically vibrate with their movements. He laughed and tried to soothe them with his hands.  “I know, I know.  There’s been too much excitement for one day.  Just relax. Your father’s okay and we’ll see him shortly.” 

John was stiff from sitting still so long. He tried to stretch the ache from his back before as he got up and pulled on a jacket that didn’t even begin to meet around his middle.  Even though it was early June, the evenings were still cool.  Making his way down to the street, he worried about Sherlock and how badly injured he might be by the blast or debris. Had Mycroft let Siger and Violet know what had happened?  John quickly sent a text to his mum to let her know what was happening and asked her to inform Mrs Hudson.  He hit send just as the car sent for him arrived. 

The driver got out and John recognised him as one of Mycroft’s more trusted security men.  Owens cheerfully trotted up to the stairs where John was just locking the front door. The security man held out a gentle hand to help John down the stairs. The doctor really didn’t need it but it was a kindness he didn’t want to reject.  

“I’m to bring you to St Thomas’ A&E, Dr Watson.  Mr Holmes said they’ve got your bond mate there now and he was awake and alert.”   
  
”Thanks, mate. Let’s get going.”  As they moved quickly toward the car, John looked up at the buildings across the street. Most of the shops were now closed and all the windows were dark.  The empty house that had been blown up last year by Moriarty had been renovated but still hadn’t found anyone to lease it yet.  As he absently scanned the upper windows, his empathy went on high alert just as his eyes caught the red glow of a cigarette.   He reacted without thinking.  
  
”Owens! Get down NOW!” he shouted and threw himself at the security man as fast as he could, falling and landing painfully on his hands and knees as a spray of bullets raked the façade of Speedy’s.  The brick seemed to explode behind them and shards of masonry flew everywhere.

Owens had gone down hard and wasn’t moving. John scuttled awkwardly but quickly across the pavement toward the protection of the car, ignoring the stinging pain caused by chips of brick that had hit his back and legs and torn through his clothes.  He was grateful that he’d not been hit by a ricocheted bullet. Adrenalin roared through him and he felt short of breath.  Bullets continued to fly as he pulled at Owens to get the man to safety but he couldn’t manage it. There was too much strain on his abdomen and he stopped with a gasp at the shock of pain that shot through him. Thankfully, Owens woke, realised what was happening and managed to roll over to the car before the next round of bullets started.  

Once Owens was closer, John could see the man had been hit by an armour piercing round that had gone through his body armour like a hot knife through butter and into his lower right side.  Relieved, John realised the man would be fine if he made it to hospital soon.  He used his jacket to staunch the bleeding and pressed hard as he pulled out his mobile. The battery was nearly gone as he dialled 999 to summon the police. He had trouble getting them to believe him until the shooting started up again.   Mycroft was the next one he rang, but cursed as the mobile shut down on him before he could get through.  

John involuntarily ducked as another blast from what sounded like an assault rifle, probably a C7, rocked the bullet resistant vehicle they were sheltering behind.   It had to be Moran! He was surprised the nutter was trying this kind of approach. He would have expected the man to have tried to kill him by sniper fire, a much more elegant and clean execution.  But Mycroft had said the explosion was messy. Maybe this kind of attack was more cathartic for Moran but John was too busy to worry about it.  

Searching Owens quickly with one hand while keeping pressure on the wound, he looked for the man’s phone but when he found it, it was shattered and no longer functioning. Frustrated, he searched further and found Owens’ weapon. It was a high power 9mm Browning. He checked the magazine and cursed when he saw it was only half full. John’s heart sank as he realised they only had seven bullets total.  

Glancing quickly around the deserted street, he noted that it was lit by just a few street lights. He couldn’t remember if anyone had been around before the shooting had started but he thought he remembered hearing faint shouts and screams. He hoped the other residents of the street were keeping their heads down and calling police, too.  With their precarious position and lack of ammunition, their best bet was to hunker down and wait for help.  The armour plating of the vehicle would keep them safe.

He looked down at Owens, who seemed to be in pain but calm. He grabbed the man’s hand and pressed it against the wound.

”Can you keep pressure on this, mate? I want to see if there’s anything in the car we can use.”  Owens nodded his agreement and grunted in pain but didn’t let up the pressure. John gave him a quick reassuring pat and turned to the car. Keeping his head down, he opened the back door of the vehicle but there was nothing of use in the back seat.  The boot was probably where he might find a rug but he wasn’t about to try that. 

Just as he reached for the front passenger side door, the vehicle rocked again as more bullets poured into it. He ducked, pressing himself against the side of the vehicle and felt it sag as both front and back right tyres flattened under the unrelenting assault. The bullet resistant windows couldn’t stand up to the constant barrage either and finally disintegrated into pieces, scattering glass and plastic shards over both of them. 

 Thankfully, the armour plating in the car held up against the bullets. They were relatively safe where they were until help arrived but he wouldn’t be able to search the front seat of the car. He’d be cut to pieces if he tried to open any of the doors at this point or put his head above the windows. 

To his great relief, a police car came roaring around the corner but stopped and reversed with screeching tyres as it began to take fire from the gunman as well.  It moved out of range and blocked the street, lights flashing.  Another appeared on the opposite end and blockaded the street from that direction, also. John’s heart sank as he realised the police or paramedics wouldn’t be able to reach them until the scene was contained.  That could take hours. He wondered what Moran was trying to do. How was he planning to accomplish John’s death and make a get away? None of this made sense. 

“Watson! Can you hear me, you fucker?”  The gravelly voice he recalled from his kidnapping shouted out over the street. It was definitely Moran. Owens looked with wide eyes up at John, who shook his head as Moran continued to shout at him. 

“I killed your bond mate, you bastard!  Now it’s your turn to die and I want it to hurt! Heads up, mate!” 

As he wondered what that was meant to mean, John heard something solid hit the street and was horrified to see a fragmentation grenade roll slowly under the car parked about ten meters ahead of them.  Without thinking, John threw open the front door of the car and keeping low, used his legs to push as hard as he could against the door so it opened as far as possible, which wasn’t very far since both front tyres of the vehicle were flat.  The bottom of the door scraped with a hideous metallic screech along the pavement and then stuck fast.  John rolled awkwardly onto his side facing the car and curled up, trying to protect his babies as best he could as the grenade exploded under the other vehicle with a muffled roar.  
  
The world jumped and rocked and he lost track of time for a few seconds from the concussive force of the explosion.  His ears rang from the blast as car alarms shrieked desperately around him, sounding as if they were miles away.   Owens had copied his position and both of them continued to press themselves into the metal side of the vehicle as bits of hot metal from the destroyed car rained down on them. 

John was surprised that the blast wasn’t even more intense and decided that there must not have been much petrol in the vehicle’s fuel tank.  The heavily armoured car door had been warped by the blast but it had done its job and protected the two of them from the brunt of the explosion and any shrapnel. Soot and smoke blew over them briefly and then dissipated, leaving them coughing with gritty eyes.

John looked up blearily and saw that more police had come to block the street but they wouldn’t come any closer. The doctor didn’t blame them and knew it was procedure to stay back until the threat was neutralised by an elite team or by negotiation. Likely Moran had the building booby-trapped and it would be incredibly dangerous to go in after him without the SAS or some similar team. That would take hours and time was something they didn’t have on their side.  Grimly, John realised there was nothing the authorities could do before Moran killed them so it was going to be up to him to take care of the situation. 

Sitting up with a painful grunt, he checked the weapon he’d taken from Owens and chambered a round. Hands rock steady, John raised the gun and shot out the street lights that he could see most easily. The last was difficult to access from his current position so he shuffled on hands and knees toward the front of the vehicle and stopped just short of the open door. He quickly took out the street light just as Moran started to shoot at the car again.  Quickly, he ducked back to avoid the bullets coming through the shattered windows and out of the open door.  Someone from the police must have figured out what John was doing because the lights from the police vehicles went out, as well.  He was going to find out who had ordered that and see they got a promotion, if possible.  

Most of the street was now black as pitch. The car that had exploded was mostly just a smoking ruin at this point and the small fires still going provided little illumination. Ducking down, John moved slowly around Owens again and positioned himself at the back of the vehicle.  Both upper windows of the empty house could be seen clearly from that position, though John would have to make himself vulnerable in order to take the shot. His heart was pounding and he knew he had very little time before Moran tried another grenade. He had only two bullets left and had to get this right the first time.  

It didn’t help that his back ached like a son of bitch, his head was pounding and his eyes felt gritty. Smoke from the burning car had made his throat sore and he had to wipe sooty perspiration from his forehead as he waited. Why was Moran hesitating? Had he guessed what John was trying to do? The doctor waited patiently for Moran to make a move, afraid the nutter would send a grenade directly at the car they were sheltering against and wondered again why Moran hadn’t done it already.  Obviously he was making this whole thing very personal and maybe he just wanted to see John killed by his bullets. The man had had too many chances to kill John but hadn’t taken them.  Was this meant to be some kind of torture?   

Again, the gravelly voice rang out. “How does it feel to know you’ve lost your bond mate too, Watson? I hope it hurts as bad as it hurt me. Neither one of us has anything to live for now so I’m going to take you with me straight to hell!” 

 _Moriarty was his bond mate?_   John would never have guessed, from his admittedly brief interaction with Moran and Moriarty that such a relationship could possibly have existed. There had been no evidence of it and they hadn’t smelled as if they were bonded. Maybe in Moran’s twisted mind there was a fantasy relationship. Whatever the truth was, the mercenary blamed John for the death of his bond mate, imaginary or not and this was now a suicide mission of revenge for Moran. 

He briefly considered responding to the man and informing him that he’d failed in his attempt to kill Sherlock but decided against it. Taunting this nutter was likely the best way to get another grenade thrown at him and the doctor didn’t actually have a death wish. 

John tried to keep his fear and frustration contained as he squinted hard at the dark windows of the building, unable to see which window Moran was using. There were only two shots left and he had to make it count.  He was beginning to think he wouldn’t survive this and despaired for his babies and Sherlock.  Thinking about it hurt his chest and he swallowed painfully.  He had to stop Moran. 

As he waited, searching the darkness desperately, he finally got his chance. The red glow of Moran’s cigarette could be seen in the upper right window of the empty house. John was incredulous.  _Such a rookie mistake!_  Did he underestimate John that much?  John aimed at the glowing ember but then stopped.  No, Moran was a professional even if he was a daft bastard.  

Reacting instantly, John stood up from behind the protection of the car, brought the Browning up in both hands and aimed for the window opposite to where he’d seen the cigarette, guessing where the man would be standing. He managed to get off one shot but before he could duck away, bullets from the assault rifle sprayed out of the window he’d just shot through.  The blast of projectiles stopped abruptly but not before John felt a tearing pain in his right shoulder. The shock of it threw him down and he fell hard to the pavement, landing on his back and dropping the weapon. 

Pain wracked his body as he rolled slowly onto his left side. John groaned as he clutched at his bleeding shoulder.  A bullet had punched through the meaty part of his deltoid muscle and it hurt like fuck.  The wound was likely superficial but it was going to bleed a lot and he had to find out if Moran was finished. 

Getting to his knees with great effort, he pushed himself over to Owens.  “You all right, mate?”  It was hard to see the security man in the dimness, but he seemed alert.

“I’m fine, sir. Did you get him?” The man’s voice was weak but clear. John’s ears were still ringing from the explosion but he had no trouble hearing the man.  
  
John peered over the edge of the car. “I don’t know. I think so, but I need to check.”  
  
He got slowly to his feet and tried to keep low but the weight of his abdomen pulled him off balance and he had to clutch at the side of the ruined vehicle to stay upright.  If Moran was still alive, John would be dead in two seconds but he had to do something. He could feel the blood running down his arm and both he and Owens needed medical attention.  To make matters worse, he felt a tearing agony undulate through his abdomen, which was suddenly hard as a rock. He bent over gasping, his mind blank with the awful pain. 

“What’s wrong, Dr Watson?”  Owens’ voice was weak but very concerned.   
  
”It’s nothing.  Give me a second."  It took a moment for John to catch his breath as the cramping pain in his belly slowly subsided.  Horrified, John suspected he was going into pre-term labour and the situation was now beyond desperate. He had to act. What he was planning to do was incredibly stupid, but if Moran was still alive, John was going to die regardless. If he didn’t do something now, he would be trying to deliver premature triplets without medical intervention. Either way would end up with him dead so he chose the one logical path that gave him a chance. Since the police couldn’t come to him, he would have to go to them.

He returned the weapon to Owens.  "Thanks for the loan, mate.  I have to get help for us and it’s best I not be seen carrying this.  Moran would have kept shooting if he were capable, so I'm going to get the police." 

Owens took the weapon and struggled to get up.  "I'll cover you, Dr Watson." 

John shook his head wearily and placed a hand on the man's shoulder.  "No. You wait for help.  If you get up, you'll start that wound bleeding again. I'll be fine."  

Taking a deep breath, John stood up as straight as he could and began to walk toward the police cars blockading Baker Street.  With each step he tensed, expecting to be pumped full of bullets but nothing happened. His heart pounded horribly in his chest and he felt a bit faint.  His gait wobbled but he forced himself to continue walking.  The empty house remained quiet. Either John had hit Moran with his one bullet or the mercenary had decided to scarper. 

As he approached the police car, the vehicles' head lamps came on again, bathing John in the harsh illumination.  He narrowed his eyes against the sudden brightness and held his hands out from his body in order to appear as harmless as possible. Hugely pregnant, staggering as he walked, with blood dripping down his right arm and covering his hands, he must look quite the sight.  As he took another step, his strength failed him and he crashed down to his knees and then to one side, cradling his swollen belly.   

Things went dark for a few moments and then there was a police constable and a couple of paramedics at his side.   John tried to sit up but he was kept lying on his left side by the constable while the paramedics set up beside him.  "Lie still, sir! We need to get you to hospital!" 

John didn’t like how faint his voice sounded. "Yes, I realise that but there's another man by the car who is more seriously injured than I am.  Gunshot wound to the lower right abdomen. Please see to him first. I think the threat from the shooter has been neutralised but you need to tell your sergeant that he is a mercenary and was responsible for the explosion of that warehouse this afternoon.  That house is likely to be booby trapped.” 

The PC looked at him with wide eyes and then quickly radioed the information into her superiors.  “Another ambulance is here and the paramedics are looking after your friend now. We’ve got a firearms unit here and they’re going to enter the house momentarily. Just relax and let us help you.”

John nodded wearily as one of the paramedics began to cut his shirt and vest away from his right shoulder and pack the wound. They quickly got his name, checked his vitals and asked how far along he was with his pregnancy. 

“I’m nearly 33 weeks, expecting triplets and I think I’m in labour.  I'd be grateful if you'd ring my obstetrician. He's Dr David Fulton. Also, would you take me to St Thomas’ Hospital?  I’m a guide and my sentinel is already there." 

The paramedic’s eyes widened almost comically as she realised just who she was treating. She then nodded in agreement and moved carefully to help John stand so he could get onto the gurney.  The paramedic raised the front of the stretcher so he didn't have to lie flat, strapped him in tight and quickly wheeled him to the ambulance.  

The street was now swarming with police and members of the fire brigade who were spraying the bombed out vehicle with foam to quench the small but persistent fires.  John could see lights on in the empty house Moran had taken as his own.  It seemed the police had been able to get in without incident and John was glad.

The constable he’d spoken with earlier paced beside the gurney as it approached the ambulance. “I’m coming with you to start your statement, sir, if you feel up to it.” 

John nodded his agreement wearily.  They could always finish it after they reached hospital. The paramedics hoisted John into the vehicle and started off immediately once the gurney was secure. 

The paramedic spoke to her partner and turned back to John.  “We’ve reached your obstetrician and he’s recommended we transport you to St Thomas’ as soon as possible. He doesn’t want us to give you anything to delay labour until he can see you.  How often are your contractions?”  
  
John thought back.  He’d been having increasingly painful backaches for days but the real pain hadn’t started until about fifteen minutes ago.  Before he could answer, agony ripped through his belly and he could feel the muscles of his abdomen contract and become rigid again.  He gasped in pain and tried to curl up on himself. How much time did he have before he gave birth? Could Dr Fulton stop the labour or was it too late? John’s thoughts scattered and he felt desperate. The pain was horrible! Labour often lasted 15 hours or more for a first baby. How could he possibly endure hours of this?  

Once the pain evaporated as the muscles relaxed, the relief from it was profound and he sighed in gratitude.  Then he was finally able to answer the question he’d been asked. “The previous contraction was about fifteen minutes ago. That was only the second really bad one but I’ve been having increasing back pain for at least two days.”  
  
She hummed and then spoke to her partner again. John’s hearing wasn’t completely back to normal yet so he missed what she said.  Patting John’s shoulder reassuringly, the paramedic checked his IVs and explained. “Al is passing that along to Dr Fulton. He’s promised to meet you at hospital and said to tell you not to worry too much. By the way, my name is Carol, Dr Watson. We should be at hospital very soon.” 

John nodded gratefully and closed his eyes.  He then remembered that the police officer was there and he cracked open an eye. Her name tag said Jenkins. “What do you want from me, Constable Jenkins?  I don’t think we have enough time before we get to hospital for me to give you a complete statement.”  
  
She smiled down on him.  “I know, Dr Watson. I was ordered to make sure you got safely to hospital and I was afraid you’d refuse if you knew the real reason. Once you’ve been treated, I’m sure someone will take your statement but only once you’ve been treated. Also, I wanted to let you know that I just heard from the team leader of our firearms unit. They got inside the house safely and found your shooter dead. He took a bullet right between the eyes.”   Her voice took on an awed tone. “If I’d not seen you do it myself, I’d not believe it possible.”  

John raised his eyebrows and blinked at her for a moment. “He’s dead? They’re sure?”  
  
PC Jenkins continued to smile and nodded. “They’re sure.  I’m guessing they’ll want you to identify his body to be absolutely certain he was who you say he was, but it’s clear he was the shooter. Apparently the entire second floor of that building looks like an arsenal. He was prepared for a war if necessary.”  
  
Shaking his head in disbelief, John sucked in a huge breath.  He couldn’t believe it was over. He and Sherlock could relax and not worry about Moran ever again.  The enormity of it took a few moments to sink in but once it did, his mood elevated and his spirit felt incredibly light.  He knew he was grinning like a fool but couldn’t stop.  He could give birth to his children safely and bring them home without having to worry about Moran shooting him or Sherlock dead in the street. The relief was overwhelming and he covered his eyes with one shaking hand.  

He now felt as if he could face 25 hours of labour and laugh in the face of the pain. He could do anything with his alpha by his side.  Which reminded him, he didn’t know how Sherlock was doing yet. 

Just as that thought occurred to him, the ambulance arrived at St Thomas’. He was unloaded efficiently and wheeled into the all-too familiar entrance to the A&E.  Both Mycroft and Dr Fulton were there waiting for him.  Mycroft’s face paled and he gulped when he got a glimpse at the amount of the blood soaking John’s shirt.

John reached out and grabbed Mycroft’s arm with his good hand.  The paramedics stopped the gurney in surprise and John started speaking before the elder Holmes could open his mouth.  “How’s Sherlock? Is he okay?”  
  
Mycroft cracked a small smile and patted John’s hand. “Sherlock is resting comfortably and will be just fine. He’s got a mild concussion, some cracked ribs and a broken ankle, not to mention a considerable amount of bruising.”  

It felt like a ton of weight was lifted off John’s shoulders at the news. “Thank god he’s all right.” 

“My brother has been asking after you since he regained consciousness but we’ve not told him anything yet. I won’t deny we were rather frantic when we couldn’t contact you or Agent Owens. We didn’t know what had happened to you until the police reports started coming in.” 

“I did try to reach you but my mobile’s battery was dead and Owens’ was damaged when he was shot.  How are Lestrade and the rest?  And Owens should be arriving soon. He took a bullet meant for me. Will you look out for him?” 

Mycroft’s smile widened and became warmer. “The others are fine with no serious injuries and I’ll let you know how Owens is when I know something.” 

Dr Fulton cleared his throat and looked meaningfully at Mycroft. “John is in labour and he needs to have a gunshot wound cared for, so you both need to shut up.”  Mycroft’s eyebrows rose in mock offence and he tried not to smile as he gently disengaged John’s hand and stepped back. 

The obstetrician gestured at Carol and Al. “Let’s get this show on the road, please. I’ve got triplets to deliver.”  With that, Dr Fulton began to push the gurney toward the treatment room and the waiting doctors and nurses.  The paramedics caught up momentarily while PC Jenkins stayed with Mycroft. 

John knew the drill and cooperated as best he could with the A&E doctor as he was divested of his clothing and put in the hated hospital gown. Then his gunshot wound was cleansed, sutured and bandaged. It was rather awkward though, because Dr Fulton immediately put him in stirrups and started a rather thorough internal exam at the same time. He’d not been in the treatment room for more than a few minutes when he had another contraction that seemed to start with his back and move like an earthquake through him.  The pain was unexpectedly worse than before and the contraction lasted longer, surprising a groan of agony from him. 

Dr Fulton watched closely during the entire process and nodded when John could breathe again.  “Well, John. It seems you’ve been in labour for quite a while. Have you been having severe backaches and Braxton-Hicks contractions for a day or so?”  John nodded, blinking at him in confusion. 

“Yes, I thought so.  You’re about 2 cm dilated.  Once you’re at 4 cm, labour is really going to get started but you still have quite a few hours yet to go, so don’t worry.” He looked thrilled at the thought but John blanched. 

“You mean this isn’t ‘real’ labour?  It’s going to hurt more than this?”  
  
The obstetrician nodded cheerily. “Oh, yes, this is real labour. You’re in the early stages and I’m sorry to tell you that the pain will get much worse. Once it really gets going you won’t even be able to talk through the pain but your body will start sending out endorphins at that point to help.  You can also request an epidural. But only if you want it, that is.”  
  
” Are you mental?  Christ, yes, I want it! No one in their right mind would go through this unless they had no other choice!”  
  
Laughing, Dr Fulton sat back and indicated that John could lower his legs. “I had a feeling you’d say that but just wait and see.  There are advantages and disadvantages and you should wait until you reach that stage to decide.  We’ll see how quickly your labour progresses.  In the meantime, we’re moving you to a birthing suite and transferring Sherlock there, also.  It’s got a bed large enough for the both of you, though you’ll have to be careful of his injuries.  Sentinels and guides need to be in contact with each other when giving birth. The pain is more manageable that way and recover rates are much better. You’ll need to bond together with each child as it’s born, also.” 

Dr Fulton removed his gloves with a snap and smoothed the sheet over John’s torso as the omega was prepared to be moved. “I’ll meet you there once you’re settled and introduce you to the doctor in charge of the neonatal unit. Dr Malhotra will be taking care of your babies once they’re born and will also be assisting me as needed.  You’ll have to choose a paediatrician at some point, but you can do that later.”  
  
With that, John was whisked off by the orderlies to the private birthing suite to meet with Sherlock. The omega was exhausted but full of nervous energy and couldn’t wait to see his bond mate to make sure for himself that he was all right. 

The room was huge, cheerful and looked like a bedroom out of a Victorian romance novel with lots of pink cabbage roses in the wallpaper and curtain patterns. There were large windows that would probably let in a lot of light during the day but since it was near midnight, the curtains were drawn. 

The bed was large enough for a sentinel and guide but oddly built. There was a complicated looking series of bolster cushions, pillows and fabric at the top of the bed on each side that could be easily raised or lowered by a mechanism attached to the bed. John had read about the device and was glad to see it.  

Male omegas tended to give birth more easily kneeling or squatting while female omegas could lie down or kneel. In general, it was always more difficult for male omegas to give birth anyway and this invention was very helpful. When the device at the head of the bed was lowered, the bolsters and cushions were available for the male omega to rest against and there was an optional hammock that could be stretched across if desired.  Lying on his back amongst the pillows was possible but it was much easier kneeling facing it and the device was designed in such a way that a male omega could rest or even sleep against it comfortably and it would take the weight off his knees as well as cushion his belly while he knelt facing the front of the bed.  

The bed itself gave the doctors, nurses and midwives easy access to help the omega and baby as it was pushed out into the world.  Cleaning up was easy and stirrups were placed at the bottom of the bed to give the omega some traction for pushing but they were optional.   The omega’s partner could stay on the other side to give support and help as needed. It was an ideal and comfortable situation and John was delighted.  
  
Sherlock was wheeled in as John started another contraction and the doctor tried to smile and greet his bond mate as he suffered and tried to breathe through it. The alpha was in a wheelchair with a plaster cast on his left ankle while his left wrist and head were both heavily bandaged. Sherlock also had some major bruising and scratches all over his face. John guessed there were lots more under the pyjamas and dressing gown that Mycroft must have got for him. 

Sherlock looked shocked at John’s condition but didn’t say anything. After he climbed into the bed, he just reached for John’s good hand and held it tight as John’s muscles finally relaxed and released him from the contraction.  

Sherlock was outraged but John could tell he was trying hard not to upset him.  “You’ve been injured! What happened?  Was it Moran?”   

“I’m fine, Sherlock. You know I’ve had much worse. But the good news is Moran is history and we’re finally safe!  I’m just glad you weren’t hurt worse than you were.  Tell me what happened at the warehouse and then I’ll tell you what happened with Moran.”  
  
They cuddled in bed and described what they’d been through.  John’s next contraction came about 12 minutes after his last but it wasn’t nearly as painful. He was spellbound listening to Sherlock’s story of discovering the bomb, getting everyone away before it went off and of being trapped in the collapsed warehouse.  Then it was John’s turn to describe his ordeal with Moran. 

And though it was difficult, he was able to focus on his bond mate instead of the pain. As they talked, John relaxed and the ache of the contractions seemed milder than before.  Because Sherlock was there, the pain was more manageable and John was actually able to rest between contractions, which varied in length from 30 to 40 seconds and seemed to come at odd random times.  Sherlock did his best to with one sprained wrist to rub John’s back and belly and the absence of pain between contractions felt like heaven. 

Dr Fulton finally came in and checked him again.  He’d made a lot of progress in the time since he was reunited with Sherlock. Being with his alpha sentinel made his labour easier and faster, it seemed. 

“Okay, John. I know you didn’t attend any of the antenatal classes I had suggested and I do remember that you’ve had a rotation in obstetrics in med school. But since I suspect you’re tired and hurting too much to recall any of it, I’m going to talk you through this. You’re out of the early stage of your labour and the established phase is going to start soon. You’re at 4 cm and the contractions are going to pick up.  Before then, I want to introduce you to Dr Malhotra. She’s the head of the neo natal unit and her people will be looking after your triplets.”  
  
A middle aged woman of East Indian origin stepped forward to shake hands with John and Sherlock.  Her accent was a lovely mix of British and Hindi.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you both, Dr Watson and Mr Holmes. It’s not every day we get the opportunity to deliver triplets for an omega guide and alpha sentinel. I’m very much looking forward to helping you bring them into the world.”  Her smile was charming and John liked her manner immediately. 

“Right now, though, Dr Fulton needs to check the positions of your babies and establish baseline heart rates and your vitals. If you will lie still, we’ll hook up foetal monitors.”  Two bands with transducers were attached to John’s abdomen. They would record the babies’ heart rates and his contractions. 

Dr Fulton sat back after another examination.  “All the babies are doing well, John. Baby A and C are both in good positions for birth and we’ll have to see about Baby B. Once Baby A is born, B will have more room to move into position. I’ll just keep an eye on things and allow you to proceed with birth normally but if the babies become stressed, I want you to know that you’ll be heading straight into surgery for a caesarean.”  Dr Fulton’s tone was firm and no-nonsense and John nodded in reluctant agreement. 

“I don’t want to risk them either, David. I’ll do whatever you think is best for them.” 

“Thank you, son. Once you reach established labour, I will check back with you to see if you still want an epidural. You’ve got some time left to go, however.” 

“How much time?”  John was so tired and he hated the whinging tone to his voice. 

“As much as six or seven more hours, I’m afraid, since this is your first, though it could be sooner. Just try to rest. I also want you to  drink as much water as possible.” 

Dr Fulton and Dr Malhotra left shortly afterwards with David promising to return soon to check on him. There was nothing he could do but endure. John cuddled up to Sherlock and breathed through the contractions as best he could.  He actually dropped off to sleep for a while until a particularly bad one hit.  Sherlock did what he could and rubbed John's back and shoulders between times and held him when he went rigid with pain. The hours wore on slowly but surely. 

At some point, John’s mum arrived.  John spotted her slipping into the room just as a contraction hit and when he came to himself it was to find his mum in tears and petting his hair.  Sherlock was holding tight to John’s left hand so he reached out to his mum with his right, forgetting the bullet wound in his arm for a moment. It hurt a bit but not as much as he’d expected.  The endorphins produced by the labour pains must have finally started working for mundane things like bullet wounds but they didn’t seem to be doing fuck all for the contractions, though. 

Jenny kissed John’s cheek and squeezed his hand tightly, smiling through her tears. “I’m so proud of you, John. And I’m sorry for blubbing but I’ve always hated seeing you or Harry in pain. Just bear with me, luv and let me know if I can help.”  
  
“Just you being here is a help, Mum.  Thanks for coming.  Do Harry and Clara know?” 

She nodded. “Yes, but they decided to stay home until after everything was over. Which was a good idea, from what I can see. This place is swarming with people and I doubt they’d have fit anywhere. There’s hardly any room for me.”  
  
 “Well, pull up a chair, Mum. You can get ringside seating if you like.”  

Nurses were coming and going, constantly checking the monitors and John’s IV. He was on fluids since he’d lost a fair amount of blood from the gunshot wound.  Food wasn’t possible and he wanted to rest but it was difficult when the contractions were coming at odd times and beginning to last longer and come more often as time passed. Both Sherlock and his mum kept his mind off the pain.  His mum kept sharing funny stories of John and Harriet when they were small and of her own experiences giving birth.  

Dr Fulton arrived to check John's progress every hour or so.   “You’re almost at 7 cm, John. If your waters haven’t broken soon, we’ll go ahead and do it for you so it will speed things along.” 

The obstetrician was getting ready to leave when John felt a gush of fluid between his legs and then he was sitting in a very large, warm puddle. He looked down in a daze and blinked.  “Oh.  That’s kind of disgusting.”  

Laughing, Dr Fulton changed the linen under John with Sherlock and Jenny’s help.  “It’s good news, John.  It means the labour will start progressing faster and before you know it, you’ll be holding your babies in your arms.”  

The thought of that made the next contractions easier to bear. He turned on his side and curled into Sherlock, who was looking extremely unhappy with the process. 

“I had no idea how painful and … messy this entire procedure would be.”  
  
John looked blearily up at him. “You didn’t learn about this in biology class at Uni? Or in Alpha class in sixth form?  This is basic stuff, Sherlock.”  He sighed as Sherlock arched his eyebrows at him. “Oh. Yes. I expect you deleted all of it. I should have known.  Well, it’s going to get even messier, luv. Bloody, too.  You might want to turn down your sense of smell.”  
  
Sherlock looked distressed and disdainful at the same time.  “It’s just that I can feel your pain, John and it’s absolutely horrible. Will you be getting some pain relief at some point?”  
  
Another contraction hit and John had to wait for almost a full minute before he could answer. “I’d like to get an epidural but there are some drawbacks.  It can make it difficult for me to kneel and push adequately if I can’t feel my legs.  It can also slow labour down considerably and that won’t be good for the babies. It could put more stress on them and increase the chance of having to have a caesarean.  The pain has been excruciating but I’ve decided not to have an epidural.”  
  
“I second your decision, John. I think it’s a good one.” John had almost forgotten that Dr Fulton was still in the room and appreciated his support.  “You’ll be in more control and that’s going to be very important, especially as you’re a male omega and birth is more difficult for you in general anyway.  Now let’s see again how you’re doing.”  

The obstetrician snapped on fresh gloves and checked John again. “You’re making good progress and heading into transition. This is a rough part. Sherlock and Jenny, neither one of you should be surprised if he doesn’t respond to you at all or tells you to go away.  John, you might feel the urge to push but don’t do it until I tell you. If you’re not fully dilated, pushing could cause excessive bleeding.” 

Both sentinel and guide nodded, eyes wide with trepidation.  Dr Fulton hadn’t been kidding about transition being tough.  The contractions became much closer together with no time to rest in between as they became more and more intense.  John began to feel sick, then hot and faint and began to shake all over.  He could tell Sherlock was becoming more and more agitated but he had no energy to deal with him. John’s mum just sat with one hand over her mouth, looking ill and scared.  Dr Fulton actually pulled Sherlock out of the bed for a time and put him back in his wheelchair but John barely noticed.  He felt horrible and wished he’d had the pain medications but knew he’d made the right decision when he felt the urge to push and was barely able to stop himself.

”Gotta push, David.  Can I push yet?”  John hardly recognised his own voice.  Dr Fulton hurried over for another exam and John saw with some surprise that Dr Malhotra had arrived with three incubators and a bevy of new nurses he’d not seen before. The room was bustling with activity and he’d not even noticed.  

His mum was wiping his brow as he came to himself with a gasp and she handed him a glass of cool water with a straw for him to drink.  His mouth was parched and he shivered as he drank. However he was ambushed by another contraction and he felt an incredibly strong urge to push again. His breath was short as he tried with all his might to hold back. “David! I have to push! What do I do?”  
  
“You’re fully dilated. Go ahead, John.”  The omega had already moved to kneel and gripped the cushions hard with his left hand as he began to push. Sherlock supported his injured right side and sent him silent encouragement as John pushed. And he worked harder than he had since boot camp. He could feel sweat on his face and it seemed to be pouring down his back. His mum wiped his face with a cool cloth but again, he barely noticed as he worked to bring his child into the world.    
  
As he pushed, he felt an incredibly uncomfortable stinging sensation inside but could only breathe and grunt through the effort. Dr Fulton was speaking in a soothing tone. “You’re doing great, John! Baby A has crowned.  Wait until the next contraction and then push hard.” John panted and did as he was told. When the pains began again, he pushed with all his strength and cried out as something that felt beyond enormous squeezed out of him.  

“The head’s out! Just one more push, John. Wait for the next contraction.”  Dr Fulton’s voice was very businesslike and John obeyed without question. He gave a mighty push and the baby was finally out with a gush of copious fluids. The relief from the pressure and pain was incredible. 

“It’s a boy! John and Sherlock, you have a son!”  Dr Fulton sounded thrilled and John could hear his mum’s exclamation of joy. Sherlock was quiet and just squeezed John’s fingers so tightly they hurt.   As the nurses changed out the bloodied sheets to prepare for the next baby’s arrival, John settled on the cushions, panting. The kid’s head must have been huge because he felt like he’d just birthed a colossal boulder. He wanted to turn around but knew he couldn’t until the cord was cut.  

He heard the sound of suctioning and then a loud, wet-sounding, rather irate cry rang out. He looked over his shoulder to see a pale, black haired, flailing tiny figure being held by Dr Fulton while a nurse clamped the umbilical cord and another suctioned more fluids from the baby’s nose and mouth. Someone handed Sherlock a pair of scissors and, wide eyed and very pale, the alpha cut the cord with a shaking hand.   

Just as soon as John turned over on his back, Dr Fulton deposited the loudly squalling, furious creature onto his chest. The baby’s body was still partially covered in vernix though most had been wiped from his face.   Jenny watched them all with a fond expression as Sherlock moved up close beside John. Both alpha and omega stared in stunned awe at their new arrival with huge, unbelieving eyes. 

John was terrified of the screaming until the baby suddenly seemed to realise where he was, stopped crying, huffed hilariously and opened vague pale blue eyes.  Even though John knew it was impossible, the baby seemed to focus on him.  He then sensed a feeling of recognition while the infant calmed noticeably.  

As they blinked at each other, John became aware of a strange sense of disorientation and then felt a strong empathic link form between himself and the baby. He sucked in a sharp breath and shot a look at Sherlock, who pushed even closer in fascination. The detective put a hand on the baby and John tilted the infant toward the alpha until Sherlock could also look into the baby’s eyes.  There was a moment of strong connection between the baby and his father that John could feel also.  Then Sherlock raised his eyes to John’s and they stared at each other in wonder.  “We made this perfect little person, Sherlock. I can’t believe it.”  
  
They looked back down at the baby while Sherlock caressed the thick coal black thatch of hair on their son’s head and kissed John’s sweaty temple.  “Thank you, my love. He’s beautiful, just like you.” 

As he watched the baby fidget and screw up his face in frustration, John shook his head and grinned as he glanced back up at his alpha. “No, luv. He’s just like  _you_. Can you feel his impatience? He’s  _exactly_  like you. I think his name should be Kellen, ‘descendent of the bright haired one’.  Kellen Siger Watson-Holmes. How does that sound, luv?” John smiled up at Sherlock, whose expression was a combination of awed surprise and smug happiness. 

“That is perfect, John.  Father will be honoured.” 

John couldn’t help it as his heart filled with overwhelming love for both his bond mate and the fragile, tiny creature he held in his arms.  He couldn’t keep his eyes away any longer and stared in fascination at his first born son, who proceeded to yawn and then root around on John’s chest for a nipple until he found one. The baby then began to suck vigorously. 

John couldn’t help a gasp of surprise.  “Oh, that feels really weird!”  He’d not thought he’d begun to produce colostrum yet but it seemed his baby was getting something. 

Dr Fulton chuckled.  “This one has great instincts, John.  We need him back, though.  We’ll get you expressing colostrum and milk for them soon. It may take a few hours for you to produce much since the babies are almost a month early.”  The obstetrician turned his attention to the suckling infant.  “Come here, little man. Let go now.” The baby’s mouth released John’s nipple reluctantly and with an absurdly loud pop. John couldn’t stop a laugh at the sound but he felt bereft immediately. 

He watched helplessly as the baby started howling the instant Dr Fulton picked him up and handed him to Dr Malhotra.  She ignored the indignant newborn’s protests with the ease of long practice and proceeded to weigh him and take his vitals.  Then Kellen was gently deposited in the incubator and dried off vigorously by nurses who cooed and talked to him gently while they attached monitors, covered his head with a small knit beanie and wrapped him up warmly while he screamed at them the whole time. 

It was hard to believe Kellen was premature. John could see him turn pink and healthy looking as the nurses rubbed him and stimulated his limbs.  Finally he wore himself out, huffed again and fell asleep.  John wanted his baby back and clutched at Sherlock, who seemed to feel the same way. 

Just then, another contraction rocked John and it was time to start another round.  He rose to his knees and turned as he felt the need to push.  Things seemed to be going faster this time around and he felt rather breathless.

Dr Fulton was immediately back on the job.  “Okay, John. No rest for the weary, I’m afraid.  At this next contraction, I want you to push.  Baby B has moved into position and is beginning to crown.  All right, push!  Good, John!!  This one's eager to see you and is coming out like a greased pig!”  

Jenny laughed out loud at that last comment. However, John wasn't in the mood to fully appreciate the humour but he pushed hard and before he knew it, his child had entered the world. Once the umbilical was cut he held his second son in his arms, still covered in blood and white vernix.  This one looked different to his brother and John knew then they weren’t identical.  His dark hair had a marked auburn tint but his eyes were the same pale blue as his brother’s.  He had some impressive lungs too, but didn’t seem as angry or incensed as Kellen had been at being forced out of his warm and comfortable home.  

This one was calm as he squirmed and scrunched up his face at the strangeness of the new world he was encountering.  He was every bit as alert as his brother though, and John could feel the baby using his empathy confidently to reach out for his parents.   Their bonding with him went quickly and John held him close as he reverently kissed the tiny fingers.  As he did so, the baby wriggled and strongly exuded a feeling of contentment and fell asleep with a small sigh as if he’d had a very rough day.  

John smiled down at him and spoke to Sherlock.  “He’s a happy baby, luv.  What do you think of naming him Tate? It means ‘cheerful’.”  
  
The detective looked down at their newest son fondly. “I think it’s perfect John. ‘Tate’ fits him well.  How about Tate Michael Watson-Holmes?”  Sherlock glanced quickly at John with some anxiety at the suggestion and the doctor gazed back at him with shining eyes, stunned. John heard a gasp from his mum but it was clear she was trying to stay quiet during what was a very private moment between John and Sherlock. 

“Are you sure? Michael is such a common name.”  John’s voice had a teasing note to it.  
  
“It was your father’s name, John.  I think it fits him and we should use it.”  Keeping his smile contained was impossible and John nodded happily in agreement. 

“Da would have been over the moon, luv. I wish he’d lived to see this day. You just made Mum cry, by the way.”  
  
Sherlock glanced over at his mother-in-law who had tears of joy pouring down her face and gave her a very tender smile. John knew the alpha had an extremely soft spot in his heart for his mother-in-law and had just proved it.  They held Tate Michael close until Baby C decided it was time to make an appearance with a hard contraction that had John gasping. 

As the pain increased, John reluctantly handed Tate off to Dr Malhotra just as he felt the strong need to push.  Once again, he rose wearily to his knees and began the process of pushing their third child into the world. He laboured for much longer than he had for Tate and almost felt like he couldn’t possibly go on as he collapsed against the cushions during a respite in the contractions. Exhaustion and pain seemed to consume him and had become his whole world.  He knew it was temporary and the end was in sight, but the knowledge didn’t really help at the moment.  

His mum held his hand and talked him through the pain and weariness. She’d been through it twice before and knew exactly what to say to encourage and calm him.  Sherlock kissed him and stroked his hair while offering him some cold water with ice chips in it.  It felt wonderful until the next round of contractions started.  It seemed to take hours but in fact was only a few minutes until their third child had arrived.

Dr Fulton was grinning from ear to ear.  “And here’s our shy Baby C, who hid from us at first. It’s a girl, John and Sherlock. You have a little girl.”  John waited for Sherlock to cut the cord and then he was holding his daughter in his arms. John stared down at her in dazed wonder and whispered, “Happy birthday, Fabienne."  He loved the way the name tripped off his tongue and it suited her to perfection.  The fine tufts of hair on her head were strawberry blonde in colour and her eyes were a darker blue than her brothers'.  

He turned to Sherlock.  “We didn’t discuss middle names for a daughter, Sherlock. Any ideas?”  The detective shot a mischievous look at John and gave him a grin. “I think her middle name should be Jennifer.”  John was thrilled at the idea but there was a gasp of surprise and dismay from Jenny. 

“Sherlock, no. Please choose another name from your family.  What about your own mother’s name? Violet is a beautiful and unusual name and Jennifer is so ordinary. You don’t have to do that.”   
  
Sherlock shook his head and replied kindly.  ”But it’s only fair, Jenny. We’re using my father’s and my grandmother’s names and we should use John’s father and mother’s names. We would both be honoured if you allowed us to give her your name.”  
  
Jenny nodded. “I’d love for her to be named after your grandmother and me but only use it if you’re sure, luvs.”  Her smile was tremulous and her voice shook. 

“It’s settled then.  Jennifer it is.  We can consider my own mother’s name for one our next daughters.” 

John’s eyebrows rose in astonishment at that last comment.  “Our next daughters? How many children do you expect me to have, luv?” 

“As many as you want, John.  It’s totally up to you but I know you loved being pregnant so I suspect there will be at least one more if not more.” 

Having no reply to what was essentially a very true statement, John gave Sherlock a blinding smile and gazed back down at his beautiful little girl. 

She wasn’t crying much and was gazing around rather vaguely until she blinked at John. Newborns couldn’t really focus on much but he was nearly overwhelmed by the strength of her empathy as she instinctively recognised her parent and strove to connect with him.  She was incredibly strong and he shot a look of wide eyed astonishment at Sherlock, who had felt her also.  Then it was Sherlock’s turn to link with her. However, the alpha didn’t seem as overwhelmed as John had been but also blinked in surprise at her strength as they established their bond.   It made John wonder if she was already exhibiting guide attributes and was more compatible with a sentinel than another guide.  
  
Once that was done, she also rooted around, looking for John’s nipple and managed to find it and suckle for a while before she was also taken away to be cleaned up and placed in the incubator. Her protests weren’t as loud as Kellen's but every bit as indignant.  John once again felt completely bereft until Sherlock pulled him into his arms. The detective sounded odd and John decided he wouldn't mention his glistening eyes or the tear tracks on his cheeks. 

Dr Malhotra finished with Fabienne and prepared to take the babies up to the neonatal ward.  All three looked pink and healthy, though of course they were all very tiny.  Before the doctor left she turned to John and Sherlock. 

“Your children are perfectly healthy and doing very well.  I would like to keep them under observation for a few days, just to be certain there are no complications.  However, I have to say they all look amazingly good for premature infants. Let me say congratulations to the both of you.”

Her smile was warm and kind and John mustered up the strength to return it.  “Once you’re rested, Dr Watson and Mr Holmes, you just have to ask one of your nurses to come see them whenever you like. If they do as well as I expect, you’ll be able to bring them home very soon.”  With that, she and her nurses took the babies out of the room. 

Sherlock hugged John as tightly as he could with a sprained wrist and multiple bruises.  "I don't know how to properly thank you, John.  No one has ever given me anything so precious or so priceless." 

"You're welcome, luv.  And rest assured, I'll remind you of that when one of them has destroyed one of your experiments and you're blaming me for it."  Sherlock hugged John tighter and chuckled.

John lay back amongst all the pillows and closed his eyes in utter exhaustion. He couldn’t remember being so tired in his entire life.   But it was done. He'd successfully brought three new individuals into the world and he could finally relax for a while. 

Just then, Dr Fulton spoke up.  "You're not done yet, son.  Still a bit more to go."  John glared at him in confusion and then realised the obstetrician meant he still had to deliver the afterbirth.  "Oh.  Well, that's easy after pushing those enormous babies out." Dr Fulton laughed and shook his head in mock despair. 

The placenta was quickly delivered and John couldn’t help but smile at Sherlock's expression of fascinated disgust. The afterbirth was thankfully whisked away for whatever the doctors wanted to do with it.  He didn’t care at that point. 

Jenny kissed John and caressed his cheek.  He leaned into his mother’s touch and felt incredibly grateful for her help and support.   “Congratulations, John!  You did a marvellous job and I’m so very proud of you.  Now you need to rest and I’m going home. I’ll see you both later tomorrow.  Sleep well, luvs.” 

John barely managed mumble of thanks in return as she left.  His body ached but at least the pain had finally stopped.  All he wanted to do was rest but his mind was going a mile a minute. The nurses had once again changed the bedding, given him a new gown and he was now clean and warm as well.  He missed the babies and ached to see them again, but knew he would have to wait.  John idly wondered what time it was and it suddenly struck him he didn’t know what day his children were born! It seemed to be early in the morning but they’d taken his watch, wallet and phone when he was first admitted to hospital and he didn’t know where they’d put them.  

Turning his head wearily to look over at Sherlock, John smiled to find his bond mate snoring lightly. He’d nearly forgotten that the man had survived an explosion and been pulled out of a collapsed building only a few hours before.  John studied the bruised features of the detective and sighed. They were so fortunate that they both survived everything that had been thrown at them and now were the parents of three children. His brain was having trouble grasping the reality of it all. It seemed to be an appropriate time to count all his blessings since he was too exhausted to sleep.  

If he’d been told two years ago that his life was going to include a bond mate and three children, he’d have called that person a liar and a nutter. But his entire existence had turned completely upside down the moment he’d met Sherlock Holmes, the world’s only alpha sentinel consulting detective and he’d never been happier in his life. Their enemies had been defeated and the cloud of fear he’d been living under for so long had finally dissipated.  There were so many things to look forward to doing and he couldn’t wait to do them.   Finally, he decided that his blessings were too numerous to count.  Those positive thoughts followed him into a deep and healing sleep as he rested beside the love of his life. 

Epilogue

The babies had done so well in the neo natal ward they’d been moved in with the rest of the newborns within a day.  They were still very small but thriving and John had loved being able to finally hold, change and feed them all. When he and Sherlock weren’t visiting them, the nurses were giving them lessons on the feeding and care of their premature infants.  The first attempts at breast feeding were rather hilarious, but he finally caught on and, though it would always be necessary to supplement their meals with formula, he planned to breast feed as often as possible. 

His head was swimming with all the information and he was still exhausted from the delivery and the bullet wound.  Sherlock wasn’t much better off and it was decided by their doctors that they would stay in hospital for a few days. As before, their injuries healed incredibly rapidly.  On the third day, John was overjoyed to have the babies brought into their room in their own cots and allowed to stay. 

Mycroft told John that Owens was doing well and had already gone home. The doctor had wanted to visit him but Owens had been taken to a different hospital and so it had been impossible with John so weak.  However, it had been a great relief to John to hear that Owens would fully recover and he arranged to send the agent a suitable gift suggested by Mycroft to thank him for his sacrifice. 

John had finally got the hang of breast feeding and was able to give each one a full meal at least twice a day in addition to their bottles and was also able to express a surprising amount of milk to be added to their formula. Of course, Kellen preferred to be breast fed and hated the bottle while the other two were fine with whatever was offered. His first born and his father were so alike that John wondered if they should have just named him Sherlock II instead of Kellen. Sherlock swore the other two took after John in their calm and laid-back manner. 

Visitors had been non-stop after the babies had been moved into their private room.  Their families and Mrs Hudson came often and the family members also took lessons from the nurses on the care and feeding of the triplets.  Lestrade, Donovan and Anderson also stopped in and John finally had the opportunity to see how they were doing.  Of everyone who’d been in the explosion, Sherlock had been the most seriously injured.   Lestrade and Donovan were fine but Anderson had been hurt by falling concrete and had a badly bruised arm.  The forensic expert was appropriately grateful to Sherlock for saving his life and the detective actually gracefully accepted the man’s genuine thanks.   

Peggy showed up, was clearly thrilled and congratulated both John and Sherlock. She also thanked the detective for saving her brother’s life with a careful hug and a kiss, all of which Sherlock returned.  Peggy then cooed over the babies and helped John’s Mum with nappy changing and feeding all the while extolling the virtues of establishing a schedule.  John and Peggy laughingly compared overly graphic birth stories that had Sherlock rolling his eyes and then limping quickly out of the room in mock disgust and boredom. 

John got a good introduction to how difficult it could be caring for the babies at the hospital and was incredibly grateful for the help that was provided by the nursing staff.  There was no way he could have cared for them by himself, as debilitated as he was from his injuries.  Thankfully, he had his entire extended family ready and willing to help.  Everyone was taking shifts their first week home so John could get enough sleep to heal. After that John and Sherlock, with his mother’s help, would start taking on more of the night time duties.  
  
Finally, they were allowed to leave hospital.  The entire family, along with Grand-maman Holmes, was waiting for them to help John and Sherlock settle the infants into their new home.  It was the first time the elder Mrs Holmes got to meet the triplets and John took great pleasure putting her name sake, Fabienne, into her arms as she sat on the sofa. The elder Mrs Holmes looked up at John with shining eyes as she gently rocked the tiny infant.  “Thank you, John. This is a gift beyond compare. I’m so glad I lived to see your and Sherlock’s children born.”   

John swallowed around a lump in his throat and blinked away his own tears.  Grand-maman had been the first of the Holmes’ family to fully and unconditionally accept him and she would always be special to him.  

“Thank you, Grand-maman.  You mean the world to me and I’ll never forget your kindness and acceptance of me as Sherlock’s bond mate when you barely even knew my name.”  He bent down and kissed her cheek tenderly, which made her smile grow even larger. Of course, that was when Kellen started squalling at the top of his lungs, making everyone laugh. 

Monique and Jenny had prepared an enormous dinner and they celebrated their homecoming with the family and Mrs Hudson while the babies slept.  Monique had also made over a week’s worth of meals for the freezer so Jenny, John and Sherlock didn’t have to cook but could concentrate on starting a schedule with the babies and each other. 

They had a lot of help offered from everyone, even Violet. She had very diffidently asked John and Sherlock if she could stay for a few evenings to help with the feedings and John had agreed readily.  Peggy had said not to refuse help from anyone and if Violet wanted to be woken every two hours to feed and change the babies, she was more than welcome. They had the extra room and he was glad to see how happy it made Sherlock that his mother wanted to help.    

Sighing in pleasure as he sank into the recliner in the nursery, John was finally able to relax a bit.  The triplets were fed, in clean nappies and all had finally fallen asleep at the same time.  Having a predictable schedule sounded better and better all the time. He was completely exhausted and they’d only been home a few days. It was wonderful to be home though and John put his feet up in the recliner. 

“Aren’t you coming to bed, John?”  Cracking an eye open, he saw Sherlock standing in the doorway to the nursery wearing his tee-shirt, loose pyjama bottoms and one of his silk robes.  He looked wonderful and John couldn’t help but smile at him and regret that they weren’t to have penetrative sex for another six weeks or so. There were many other things they could do but he was so tired he doubted he could do anything anyway for a few more days at least. However, it didn’t hurt to look and appreciate how absolutely gorgeous his bond mate was and to be grateful for just how bloody lucky he was to have him and to have been given these amazing children. 

“I’ll be in shortly, luv. I just wanted to spend a few quiet moments with them before I went to bed.  They’re just so precious when they’re not screaming their heads off, aren’t they?” John looked at the babies in the cots fondly and then up to Sherlock, who came into the room and slid into the recliner beside John, forcing him to budge over and turn toward his bond mate so they could both fit into the chair at once. 

“They are precious and wonderful but you need your sleep.  We both need to heal so we can care for them ourselves. I still think you should consider hiring a nanny soon, though.  Your mother can only do so much and she’s got her own life. Also, I’m going to need you back with me on cases and if we had a nanny….”  
  
John held up his hand. “I’ll consider it but give me some time with them.  I’m being a bit possessive at the moment and don’t really feel like sharing them with a stranger.  It’s hard enough to have to share them with family and you know how much I love my family.”  
  
Sherlock kissed his forehead and held him close.  “I understand but I’m glad you’re willing to consider it. I need you with me all the time, but I’ll settle for some of the time if that’s what I can have.” 

They lay wrapped up in each other, enjoying their quiet time together with their children. It was lovely to be able to relax and just be for a while.  Not having to worry about someone trying to kill them at the moment was wonderful.  John snorted at that thought and shared it with Sherlock, who also laughed.  

Musing aloud, John continued. “You realise how screwed up that is? How many families have to worry about something like that?  And you know that’s probably only temporary.  I’m sure there are others out there who will want to kill us in future.  With your work, you do tend to get up a lot of people’s noses.” 

Sherlock huffed.  “If people weren’t so stupid, it wouldn’t be a problem. But Moran was your fault, entirely. I can’t take credit for that one this time.” 

Shaking his head, John conceded the point. “You’re right. It was my doing entirely but everything worked out well in the end.  I’m just really glad we can take a few minutes right at this moment and enjoy the peace and quiet.  Between the children and your work, we’re not going to be getting much sleep in future. 

“By the way, you do realise don’t you, that it’ll be at least 18 years before we get any more of this? What we’re experiencing is the calm before the storm. I expect these kids will keep us on our toes in ways we never expected.” 

“You’re correct, John, but I suspect we will be raising children for much longer than just 18 years.  Based on how much you enjoyed carrying the triplets, I do believe these will not be our last. We have never discussed how many more children you want to have.”  

The alpha stroked his hand down John’s body and rested it on the doctor’s slightly protuberant belly.  The stretched skin and muscle still had yet to tighten but John planned to spend some serious quality time with Marty as soon as he was allowed. 

“No, you’re right. This last batch just sort of happened and we never had the chance to plan or discuss anything.  Just how many children do  _you_  want, Sherlock?”  

“You keep batting the question back at me.  If it were up to me, I’d have ten more, but that’s not really feasible, is it? Your age will prevent that from happening and I would never want to compromise your health in any way.  But what I want is for you to have as many children as you want. If these three are it, that’s fine with me. If you want more, I’ll give you as many as you want.”  
  
John thought for a while. “I do want more and we can certainly support more.  Let’s just see how things go when my heat comes on me again.  It might be another year or more. I don’t know, to be honest. I’ve never been off the suppressants long enough to really establish a cycle. I can check with David and see. But yes, right now I’d love to have more children with you.   Though you do know that they will dominate the world eventually, especially with you as their father and Mycroft as their uncle.”

Sherlock sniffed and stuck his nose dramatically in the air. “Of course. That is the proper order of things.”   

John laughed so hard he woke up Kellen, who immediately started screaming, which woke up the others.  Pulling himself and Sherlock out of the recliner, John snorted and picked up Kellen to try to calm him.  The baby shrieked in indignation, then huffed and quietened down reluctantly as soon as he realised who was holding him. He then tried to enthusiastically root for a nipple through John’s night shirt, which made John start laughing again. 

“Greedy boy! Just wait a moment.”  It was Kellen’s turn to nurse, so John settled back in the recliner to feed him.  While Sherlock calmed the others, John heard his mum in the kitchen, heating bottles of formula.  She was going to be a zombie by the end of the week.  Maybe two or three nannies might be more of what they needed instead of just one. He’d talk to Mycroft about vetting some agencies for them in the next few weeks.   

John’s grin was full of happiness and contentment as his gaze moved from his enthusiastically feeding son to his bond mate. Sherlock returned his smile in full measure as he carefully rocked both Tate and Fabienne in his arms.  Realistically, John knew this next chapter in their lives was going to hold as much grief as happiness.  There were going to be many trying times but he also knew there would always be moments of calm and intense love to balance them out. 

Smiling softly down at the babies in his arms, Sherlock spoke quietly.  “Welcome to our life for the next thirty years at least, John. I have to say I’m looking forward to the challenge.”  

John couldn’t help a small laugh, which nearly dislodged Kellen.  If it was possible for an infant to glare at him, Kellen managed it, making John laugh harder.  “Me, too. Let’s just hope that we and the rest of the world will survive it.”

 

The end

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who stuck with me for this incredibly long story. You have all been wonderful with your encouragement and kind words through my RL issues, as well. 
> 
>  
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> I sincerely hope you enjoyed the story and again, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Best wishes to you all. :-)


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